




/ 




/ 



<3 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Clm|i. Co|iurtnl;l ho. ' 

Shelf. 1*4 3> & 4 

— - — — A 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA?: 




















































% 



































4 





























“A TIMID LITTLE GIRL CREPT IN AT THE DOOR WITH 
HER DONATION, ONE RED ROSE.”— Page 128. 


AMID 


THE SHADOWS. 


TIN. 

HIS STRENGTH.” 



MARY F. MAR 

' H 

AUTHOR OF “ ROSA LEIGHTON, OR IN 


“ Oh, for the faith to grasp ‘ Heaven’s bright forever,’ 
Amid the shadows of earth’s ‘ little while.’ ” 


t r 


— — r 

f/O 


or 

cif' Y 


* 7 ^ 

J H Ls 


r ’% 

JL9 °l 9h... 


New 

National Temperance Society and Publication House, 
No. 58 READE STREET. 


1 880. 


T- 



Copyright, 

J. N. STEARNS, Publishing Agent, 

j88o. 



STEREOTYPED 

BY THE ORPHANS OF THE CHURCII CHARITY FOUNDATION, BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


PRINTED BY H. J. HEWITT, 27 ROSE ST., NEW YORK. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER PAjGE 

i. — Light beyond the Shadows . .7 

11. — How the Shadow Fell . . . 22 

hi. — The Shadow on the Judge’s Home . 55 

iv. — Marrying Him to Reform Him . . 72 

v. — One Less in the Shadow . . .98 

vi. — W ild Clematis . . . . .126 

vii. — S elf-Exiled . . . • . . *151 

viii. — In the Old Home once More . . 180 

ix. — The Snow-Bank at the Gate . .197 

x. — The Shadow of the Shadow . . 219 

xi. — A Mother’s Legacy . . . .250 

xii. — Roses and Thorns . . . .2 73 

xiii. — Home from School . . . .281 

xiv. — The Cancelled Check . . . 304 

xv. — A ll Blotted Out . . . . .318 


xvi. — “Where is My Wandering Boy To- 


Night?” 346 

xvii. — God, an Iconoclast . . . *356 

xviii. — The Old Wound Re-Opened . -374 

xix. — “W hy was I Spared?” . . . 392 

xx. — R eaping the Harvest . 402 


4 



PREFACE. 


WAS told, when “ Rosa Leighton ” 
was first introduced to the public, 
that a story would be much more 
forcible, could it claim the credit of being 
founded upon fact. 

“ Amid the Shadows ” does not claim this 
wholly, and yet, some of the incidents are a 
faithful record of what has actually occurred. 

The manner of Alice Ellis’ death may 
seem improbable, but, on the outskirts of 
Philadelphia, a few years ago, a little girl 
was burned to death, under exactly the same 
circumstances. 




6 


Preface. 


Her conversation with her father and 
mother, is also that of another dying child, 
only altered sufficiently to prevent personality. 
Woven together with these facts from life 
are others, purely imaginary, the counter- 
parts of which may be found, wherever the 
shadow of the bottle has fallen. 

With a prayer that the Holy Spirit may 
use my simple story for the salvation of some 
soul, I send it forth on its mission, dedicating 
it to the 

“woman’s CHRISTIAN TEMPERANCE UNION,” 

whose aim is, not only to save the perishing 
from drunkards’ graves, but, lifting the fallen, 
to lead them to the cross of Calvary. 

M. F. M. 




AMID THE SHADOWS. 


I. 

LIGHT BEYOND THE SHADOWS. 

“At evening time it shall be light.” — Zech. xiv. 7. 

HE shadow of the old maple- tree 
grew, as the sun neared the 
horizon, until it fell across the 
doorstep, where Nellie Ray was -looking out 
upon the sunset. 

The clouds were tinted with crimson and 
purple, and her imagination formed them 
into vast castles with turrets of gold, al- 
though she could not have thus described 
them, had she tried. 



8 


Amid the Shadows . 


Here and there, at times, the clouds 
divided, showing, in the far, far away, it 
seemed to her, more dazzling brightness 
still. What could that be, — that place of 
light, of which she could at times but catch a 
glimpse ? Could she reach it, if she tried ? 
Oh, that she might ! The shadow did not 
reach there. 

A slight noise behind her disturbed her 
revery, and, rising from her seat, she turned 
away from the sunshine. 

There was very little brightness in the 
room which Nellie entered. True, the last 
rays of the setting sun, creeping through 
the broken window, and lighting up the 
little that was there, showed that that little 
was. scrupulously clean, but everywhere 
might be traced marks of pinching poverty. 

The sound which had disturbed her dream 
of brightness, was the fretful worrying of a 
pale, sickly-looking baby, and as Nellie knelt 


Light beyond the Shadows . 9 

1 

beside its cradle to try to soothe it, she did 
so painfully, for she herself was misshapen 
and deformed. 

With gentle voice she sought to quiet the 
little sufferer, but, failing in her attempt, 
she raised it from the cradle, and walked the 
room again and again with it. 

Then she went to the door, and looked 
anxiously up and down the street. Still the 
pale little one moaned and worried. Tired 
with carrying it up and down the room so 
often, she sat down upon the rocking-chair, 
and, pressing the little face close to hers, 
sang, in low, sweet tones, soothing words of 
love, until the baby, tired with its own 
worrying, fell asleep. 

Laying it gently in its cradle, she went 
again to the door, but, this time, not to sit and 
dream of the brightness beyond the clouds. 

At her first call of “ Luke,” a bright, 
cheerful-looking boy of twelve years, sprang 


IO 


Amid the Shadows . 


up from a game of marbles which he was 
playing beside the gate, and stood before 
her. 

“ Luke, dear, I wish you would see if 
mother is coming. She always gets through 
washing by this time. She said Mrs. Dun- 
bar would pay her, and she would bring 
something for supper. Father will be home 
soon, and there isn’t anything in the house 
to eat.” 

“Yes, Nellie, I’ll go, but I don’t know 
where to look for her.” 

“ I guess you had better wait at Mrs. 
Dunbar’s gate and walk home with her.” 

“ I guess so, too, but I'm afraid I am too 
late ;” and without another word he was 
quickly out of sight. 

With a weary sigh, Nellie turned again 
into the room, and began to make what 
preparations she could for supper. The fire 
was almost out, but, just when she was most 


Light beyond the Shadows. 1 1 

needed, Jennie, a little sister of seven, came 
in with her apron full of chips, that she had 
been gathering in the next street, where a 
new house was being built. 

Soon a bright fire was blazing, and the 
kettle singing merrily above it. 

“Now, Jennie,” said Nellie, cheerfully, 
“ get the table set, so that we can have 
supper ready when father comes home. 
We are only waiting now for mother to 
bring some bread and tea.” 

Quickly Jennie obeyed her sister, and 
then both watched anxiously at the door. 

Nellies heart grew heavy as the moments 
passed, and neither her mother nor Luke 
appeared in sight, and she uttered a deep 
sigh, as, seeing her father approaching, she 
turned and looked at the empty table ; for 
she knew that, coming home tired from his 
work, he expected something to eat at once. 

“ Well, Nellie, I hope supper is ready. 


Amid the Shadows. 


i 2 

I can’t tell you how tired and hungry I am.” 

“ Oh, father, I am so sorry, but ” — 

“Why, Nellie, what does this mean?” 
and the kind tone in which he had addressed 
her, changed to one of sternness. “ Why 
isn’t supper ready for me ?” 

“ I am waiting for mother to bring some- 
thing home, father. Indeed there isn’t 
anything in the house ; not even a crust of 
bread.” 

“ Where was your mother agoing to get 
anything ?” 

“ She said that Mrs. Dunbar would pay 
her to-day. Luke went to walk home with 
her, but I am afraid she left before he got 
there.” 

“ Of course she did. You might know 
she wouldn’t wait for him. There’s no use 
in my waiting. You know well enough you 
won’t see any supper to-night and taking 


Light beyond the Shadows . 13 

up his hat, Mr. Ray raised the latch of the 
door. 

Instantly Nellie was beside him, and her 
hand laid beseechingly on his arm. 

“ Father, won’t you stay at home with us?” 

“ What’s the use ? You know as well as 
I do, where your mother is. She won’t 
bring anything for supper, and I won’t be 
paid until Saturday night, so I don’t know 
what we are going to do. You needn’t think 
I am going to stay here thinking it all over, 
and seeing you all hungry. No, I’m going 
to forget it.” 

The baby wakened then, and its feeble 
wail reminded Nellie of another want. 

“Father,” said she, “can you give me a 
penny to get some milk for baby? Jennie 
could get it in the next street, if you can. 
“ A penny — let me see. I guess I can spare 
it, but here’s Wednesday, and although I 
brought home my wages Saturday night, 


14 


Amid the Shadows. 


they are all gone already. There’s Joe 
Brady that works in the same shop with me, 
getting the same wages, and he has a nice 
comfortable home, and plenty to eat. At 
noon he always has a nice lunch with him, 
while I have to walk around because I’m 
hungry, and then after working all day, I 
come home, and find nothing for me here. 
No, I wont stay. Here’s a penny, get some 
milk, but it would be well if the baby, and 
all the rest of us could die.” 

So saying, and tossing the penny on the 
table, Mr. Ray left the house, rudely shutting 
the door behind him. 

The noise of the closing door completely 
aroused the moaning baby, and its cries 
began afresh. 

Taking the penny, and a broken pitcher, 
Jennie hurried for the milk, and, returning 
quickly with it, she warmed a little, and 


Light beyond the Shadows. 15 

gave it to Nellie, who fed her little sister 
with a mother s care. 

Jennie looked wistfully at the remaining 
milk, but Nellie shook her head. 

“ No, no, Jennie, we must leave it for 
baby;” adding cheerfully, “perhaps mother 
will come soon ; run and look, that’s a good 
girl.” 

Without a word, Jennie turned from the 
tempting pitcher, and went to the door. 
Soon she called : 

“ There’s Luke coming, and he has some 
bread ; but mother isn’t with him.” 

“ Why, Luke, where is mother ?” asked 
Nellie, as her brother entered the room, 
“and why are you so late ? Father ’s been 
home, and wouldn’t stay because there was 
no supper for him.” 

“ Indeed, I couldn’t help it, Nellie. I 
went to Mrs. Dunbar’s gate, and waited 
ever so long, and when mother didn’t come, 


Amid the Shadows. 


16 

I went around to the kitchen. The cook 
said that she had been gone half an hour. 
Then I hurried to catch up to her, but you 
know I couldn’t. I guessed where she was, 
so I looked into the bar-room at Fagan’s, 
and saw her there. Then I waited for her 
J:o come out, but when she didn’t come, and 
I knew father would be home for supper, 1 
went in. I knew she would be mad, but I 
couldn’t help it. I just went up to her, and 
asked her to come home. When she turned 
and saw me, she struck me across my face — 
I feel it yet — and asked me how I dared 
to come after her. I told her that she had 
promised to bring home something for 
supper, and we were all hungry, and father 
would want something when he came from 
work. 

“Then she began to say dreadful things^ 
Nellie — such dreadful words, and told me to 
go home, myself. I didn’t know what to 


Light beyond the Shadows . 17 

do, for I knew you hadn’t anything, so I 
asked her again to come. She spoke so 
loud then, that old Fagan heard her, and 
coming over to where she was sitting, asked 
me what I Was making such a row about. 
I told him that I only wanted mother to 
come home and give us our supper. I 
guess he saw that she had money in her 
hand, for he tossed a ten cent piece to me, 
and said, ‘ There, go buy some bread for 
yourself, and leave your mother to enjoy 
herself.’ 

“ I took the ten cents and bought this loaf 
of bread. I hurried home as fast as I could. 
Now, shall I get anything with these four 
cents ?” 

“ No, Luke, put them far back in the corner 
of the closet, in that broken cup. Don’t say 
anything about them, for I may need them 
to get milk for baby. Poor baby,” and 

Nellie kissed the little pale face, as she laid 
2 


1 8 Amid the Shadows, 

her little sister gently in the cradle, “ I am 
afraid she is getting sicker and sicker ; she 
has cried nearly all the time, to-day. I 
wish mother would come home and tell me 
what to do for her.” 

With a sigh she turned from the cradle, 
but her voice was cheerful, as she called the 
children to take their places at the table. 

“ I’ll save a piece of bread for father ; 
may be, he’ll come home soon, and another 
piece for mother. I’ll try to get her to eat 
it, and then we’ll have our supper. Luke 
dear, get a pitcher of nice fresh water, and 
we’ll pretend we are having a grand feast.” 

Inspired by his sister’s cheerfulness, 
Luke’s face brightened, and the three child- 
ren might have been mistaken by passers 
by for very happy ones, as they laughed over 
their supper of dry bread and water. Nellie 
and Jennie pretended to be very busy after- 
ward putting away the remainder of the 


Light beyond the Shadows. 19 

feast, and washing the few dishes that had 
been used. 

Luke took his seat upon the front step, 
and when Nellie, having finished her house- 
hold tasks, sat down beside him, she saw 
that his face was overclouded. 

“ Now, Luke dear, what is the matter ? 
Does your face hurt where mother struck 
you ? There — I forgot to put some cold 
water on it, I’ll get it now and she had 
half risen from her seat, but Luke pulled 
her back, saying : 

“ No, Nellie, it isn’t that. I’ll tell you. 
Last Sunday, Miss Arnold spoke to us in 
Sunday-school about drinking. I could 
hardly hold up my head. I thought every- 
body knew about her, but, I don’t believe 
they did, for the boys in that school don’t 
know me. Well, then she told us, if we 
didn’t want to be drunkards when we grew 
up, we must never drink the first glass of 


20 


Amid the Shadows. 


rum. She told us to keep away from all 
places where it was sold — to be ashamed to 
be seen going into a tavern ; and, don’t you 
think, Nellie, to-night, when I came out of 
Fagan’s, she was just passing the door, and 
saw me. She called me twice, but I pre- 
tended not to hear, and when I got around 
the corner, I ran as fast as I could, for I 
couldn’t tell her about her, and now she 
thinks I went in there for liquor.” 

Nellie’s heart was full of sympathy for her 
unhappy brother, but she could not quite 
understand the depth of his sorrow. She 
had never been to Sunday-school, and knew 
not, how Luke, who had been in Miss 
Arnold’s class but a few weeks, looked up 
to her almost with veneration, and valued 
her good opinion as worth more than that 
of any one he had ever known. 

The children sat there busy with thoughts 
until darkness settled over the street, and 
their few neighbors had all closed their 


Light beyond the Shadows. 


2 1 


doors. Then Nellie, said : “ Go to bed, 
Luke. See, Jennie has gone to sleep 
already. I’ll lie down on the floor beside 
the cradle until mother comes, for baby 
may get awake, and want some milk.” 




II. 

HOW THE SHADOW FELL. 
“Weep o’er the erring one.” 


R. RAY had turned from his door, 
disappointed and cross. He was 
hungry, and hunger never tends 
to render a person very amiable. 

He could not stay at home, and see his 
children ask, with their eyes, if not with 
their lips, for what they needed as much 
as he. 

Where should he go? Yes, he knew 
where there was a nice cheerful room, and, 
even though he hadn’t much to spend, there 
was a chance of being treated occasionally, 



How the Shadow Fell. 23 

to that which would make him forget the 
pangs of hunger, and remove, for a time, his 
trouble. 

But he paused ere he entered the bril- 
liantly lighted saloon. Wasn’t it a little 
selfish to leave his poor children to bear the 
whole of the burden alone ? 

Manhood was not quite dead yet, and, in 
his heart, was a real father’s love for them ; 
but, the more he thought of them, the more 
impossible it became for him to meet them 
just now. He could not look upon them, 
and realize all the load they were called 
upon to bear. 

His poor, deformed Nellie; how well he 
could remember what a bright, happy little 
baby she was, and he used to trace, in her 
dimples and bright blue eyes, a resemblance 
to a Nellie whom he had won from among 
the hills. Yes, he was a young man, then: 
he had gone to work at a new house, several 


24 


Amid the Shadows. 


miles from the town in which he had learned 
his trade. 

He boarded at a farm house, and the 
roguish eyes of the farmer’s daughter looked 
love into the young carpenter’s heart, and ? 
when the new house was finished, he went 
home carrying with him a new motive to 
stimulate him in his work, for had not Nellie 
Gordon promised to be his as soon as he 
could fit up a home for her ? 

Then, with thoughts of that girlish face to 
help him, he had succeeded better than ever, 
and soon was able to claim the fulfilment, of 
his Nellie’s promise. 

Oh, what happy days were those ! In 
the morning he went to his work, feeling the 
soft kisses that his Nellie had pressed upon 
his lips at parting. At noon he was sure to 
see her bright face at the shop door, for she 
pretended that she could not prepare his 
lunch in time for him to take it in the morn- 


How the Shadow Fell. 


25 


in g ; but he knew well enough that it was only 
to have an excuse to bring it to him, and 
right willing was he that she should do so, 
for it shortened the day to have her beside 
him even, for the little while that he was 
eating the dainty lunch which she always 
managed to prepare for him. 

When evening came, he knew just at what 
corner she would be waiting for him. Oh, 
those days of happiness ! How his heart 
throbbed, even now, when he thought of 
them. 

Then baby Nellie came, and never before 
was there such a baby. True, he had to 
carry his lunch himself, but he was willing to 
do that, when he thought that his Nellie had 
to stay to care for their baby. 

All was so bright in those few happy years. 
His business prospered, and he had every 
reason to hope that some day he would be in 


26 


Amid the Shadows, 


much better circumstances than now, even 
though he might never be rich. 

At home it was all sunshine : wife Nellie 
always met him with a loving smile, and 
baby Nellie learned in time to run to the gate 
to look for “ Papa.” 

Then Luke came to them, and how proud 
he felt of his noble looking boy. 

Then gradually a change began to steal 
over the household. Imperceptibly almost, 
at first, but stealthily and surely crept the 
dark shadow that he was conscious of, before 
he fully realized its real nature. He had 
come home tired from his work one evening, 
and forgetting, for a time, the impalpable 
“ something,” looked forward longingly to 
the rest and love which awaited him there. 
Little Nellie was, as usual, waiting for him 
at the gate, but there was about her a look 
of neglect that he had never before no- 
ticed. 


f 


How the Shadow Fell. 


27 


Before reaching the door he heard the 
baby Luke screaming lustily. 

“ Why, Nellie,” said he to his little girl, 
who, holding his hand tightly, skipped joy- 
ously up the path at his side, “ what is the 
matter with little brother ?” 

“Why, papa, I can’t make him stop crying. 
Mamma’s asleep, and he wants to get out of 
the cradle.” 

He did not wait for more. His Nellie 
asleep at that time of the day ! Surely she 
must be sick ! And, as he quickly stepped 
into their bright little home, and saw his wife 
in a sound sleep upon the lounge, her face 
flushed, as he supposed, by fever, confirmed 
his worst fears. 

What could he do ? He could at least 
quiet the crying baby, so that her slumbers 
might not be disturbed. He looked around 
the room, and saw that no preparations for 
supper had yet been made. 


28 


Amid the Shadows . 


His poor Nellie ! Why she must have 
been sick some hours ! How anxious he 
felt about her ! The shadow was entirely 
forgotten now. 

With as little noise as possible he arranged 
the smouldering fire, carrying little Luke on 
one arm while doing so, lest his cries might 
awaken his sick mother. The fire was soon 
blazing brightly, but, before he got his own 
supper, the wants of the hungry baby must 
be satisfied. 

Turning to little Nellie, who, with childish , 
sympathy, had drawn her little chair close 
beside the lounge, and was softly stroking 
her mothers hot hand, he said : 

“ Do you know where mamma put baby’s 
milk ?” 

“ Yes, papa; in the corner of the closet in 
a flat bottle — not in that one, papa ; that’s 
mamma’s medicine — in the other corner.” 

But before she had spoken, he had taken 


How the Shadow Fell. 29 

the cork from the bottle that he had first 
found, supposing, of course, that it was milk. 
“ Mamma’s medicine !” what could it be ? 
He raised it to his lips, and at the first taste, 
turned with a pale, dismayed face to his 
little girl : 

“ Nellie, does mamma have to take this 
medicine often ?” 

“ She did to-day, papa. Sometimes she 
only tal^es it after dinner ; but she felt so bad 
to-day, that she had to take it ever so many 
times.’* 

The “ something ” that he had been con- 
scious of — was it explained, now ? Oh, no ! 
he could not believe it. His darling wife 
was sick; how could he doubt her thus? 
As if to make amends for his unjust suspi- 
cions, he leaned over the lounge, and pressed 
a soft kiss on her hot cheek. 

The slight touch, though it did not awaken 
her, disturbed her slumbers, and she turned 


30 


Amid the Shadows. 


her face, which had been toward the wall, 
toward him, so that her hot breath fell 
directly upon his face. Involuntarily, he 
started back with a shudder, and his heart 
seemed turned to lead. 

Clasping the baby more closely to him, 
he prepared its food ; and when, its hunger 
satisfied, it fell into a sweet sleep, he laid it 
gently in the cradle, and proceeded to get 
supper for his little girl. He needed -nothing 
himself; his appetite was all gone. Then 
he rocked Nellie to sleep in his arms, and 
laying her down on her bed, sat down to 
brood over this great sorrow that had come 
into his life. 

To-night, as he stood near the door of the 
saloon, this whole scene was reproduced 
before him so vividly, that he seemed to 
have passed through it but yesterday. He 
remembered well the awakening. He had 
gone for a little while into the fresh air — it 


How the Shadow Fell. 3 1 

was unbearable, this watching the one he 
loved so well, and hoping against hope, that 
his suspicions were unfounded. A slight 
rustle in the room he had just left, attracted 
his attention, and, opening the door suddenly, 
he saw that his wife had risen from the 
lounge, and was standing before the closet, 
with her hand upon the bottle that had 
brought such despair into his heart. 

Instantly he was at her side, and just as 
she was in the act of raising it to her lips, he 
snatched it from her grasp, and dashed it 
through the open window. 

With an exclamation of surprise and anger, 
she turned toward him, and the lips that had 
so often whispered words of love, upbraided 
him as if he had done her a positive injury. 

Then in her frenzy he learned the origin 
of this habit. Even while Nellie was still a 
very little baby, a neighbor had told her that 
it was impossible for her to care for that child 


32 


Amid the Shadows . 


without a stimulant to keep up her own 
strength ; and so, without mentioning it to 
her husband, she had followed this advice, 
taking, however, the stimulant very sparingly 
at first. 

Slowly but surely the habit had grown 
upon her, until, when Luke came, it had 
gained such a strong hold, that she easily 
persuaded herself that her allowance must 
now be doubled — she could not take care of 
such a strong hearty boy, day and night, 
without something to sustain her. 

How his heart sank within him, when he 
saw what strength the habit had gained, and 
that love for her children was made the 
excuse for indulging in that which would, if 
continued, surely wreck the happiness of 
their whole lives. 

At last he had succeeded in quieting her, 
and persuading her to go to bed. When 
she awakened in the morning, her remorse, 


How the Shadow Fell . 


33 


as little by little the occurrences of the past 
night came back to her, made his heart ache 
for her. How could he but believe that her 
sorrow was real, and that her promises for 
the future would be kept unbroken ! 

As the months passed, the shadow seemed 
lifting from his home. Sometimes, it is true, 
something in his wife’s conduct excited his 
suspicion, but he blamed himself for his want 
of confidence in her. 

Then dear little Jennie came to them. 
How anxious he felt ! He tried to warn her, 
but she avoided all conversation on the sub- 
ject. He felt that the shadow grew heavier, 
and yet he could not point to a single cir- 
cumstance that justified him in his suspicions. 

One thing he missed ; he never now was 
met on his return at night as he used to be. 
His wife was always busy preparing supper, 
and he could see, avoided him in every way. 

Then came a night of horror. As he 
3 


34 


Amid the Shadows. 


thought of it, after these years, he even then 
shuddered and pressed his hands to his eyes, 
to hide, if possible, the dreadful picture that 
rose before them. 

He had come home one evening to find 
the house deserted, save by Luke, now a 
bright boy of -five years, who was left in 
charge of his little baby sister. 

When questioned about his mother, the 
child knew nothing except that she had 
gone out some time before, taking Nellie 
with her, and leaving the sleeping baby 
in his care ; telling him to feed her if she 
awakened hungry. He had done so, and 
now she had gone to sleep again, and he 
was waiting for mamma to come home to 
give him some supper, for he was so hungry. 

The father was hungry, too, and anxiously 
he and his little boy waited for the absent 
mother. 

As it grew dark, dread of all kinds of 


How the Shadow Fell . 


35 


trouble took possession of his mind. He 
would seek her if he had an idea where 
she was. 

Luke had been sitting on his lap, looking 
out of the window, but, as the street grew 
too dark for him to distinguish objects of 
interest, he leaned back in his fathers arms, 
and with a tired yawn, said : 

“ Papa, when will mamma come to give 
me my supper ? She never stayed this long 
before.” 

“ Never stayed this long ! Why, what do 
you mean, Luke ? Mamma never has been 
out this way, before.” 

“ Oh, yes, papa, often ; but she tells me to 
fill the kettle and put it on to boil, and she 
will come home to get supper ; but she 
always comes before you do.” 

This then was an explanation of the 
hurried preparations for supper which he 
had often noticed, and wondered at silently, 


36 


Amid the Shadows . 


and also the studied avoidance of him when 
he at first entered the room. 

With a sigh, he arose to get something for 
Luke to eat, and as he passed from place to 
place around the room, while doing so, his 
attention was attracted to the absence of 
many small articles that he had not missed 
before. This, then, answered the question 
which had been in his mind for some time* 
as to the manner in which his wife obtained 
the means to indulge in her terrible habit. 
Fearful lest the absence of any large articles 
might be noticed, and its cause suspected, 
she had been gradually selling those things 
that would be least likely to attract attention. 

After Luke fell asleep the suspense and 
uncertainty became unbearable. He had 
not the faintest clue to his wife’s where- 
abouts, and yet he felt that he must hunt for 
her; so, locking the sleeping children in the 
house alone, he passed into the street. 


How the Shadow Fell . 


37 


Shame prevented him from making in- 
quiries of the neighbors, neither would he 
question the policemen whom he met. He 
felt that every one that looked at him, read 
in his face the dark secret that was gnawing 
into his very heart. 

As he passed each tavern, and there were 
many, many in the neighborhood, he peered 
stealthily in at the door, almost fearing, and 
yet hoping to find his Nellie there ; and 
as he turned away, he did so with a sigh, 
half of relief, and half of sad disappoint- 
ment 

Thus he passed, hour after hour, until he 
knew that it would not do to leave the 
children any longer. Trying to persuade 
himself that he would certainly find Nellie 
on his return, he hastened home ; but, alas ! 
if he had succeeded in thus persuading him- 
self, he was again disappointed ; the house 
was just as he had left it, except that baby 


38 


Amid the Shadows. 


Jennie had awakened and was fretting for 
her food. 

Finding that Luke had left milk for her, 
he fed her, and soon she sank into a quiet 
sleep. 

Tired with his day’s work, and his long 
walk, he threw himself upon the lounge, 
listening still for the coming of her, who was, 
even now, so dear to his heart. After mid- 
night he fell into a deep sleep, and was 
startled to find, on awakening, the sunlight 
streaming in at the window. 

At first he could scarcely recall the events 
of the preceding night, but suddenly all 
flashed upon him, and he realized the alarm- 
ing truth ; that his wife had been absent from 
home all night, and little Nellie, his little 
darling, scarcely seven years old, with her. 

As he opened the door, hoping that he 
might hear something from his missing ones, 
a newsboy passed with the morning papers. 


How the Shadow Fell. 


39 


Impelled by he knew not what, he bought 
one, and hurriedly glanced from column to 
column, scarcely conscious whether he hoped 
or feared to have his suspense ended by some 
item there. 

He had almost decided that his search, 
here too, was in vain, when a paragraph, 
unnoticed before, attracted his attention. 
With lips growing paler and paler at every 
word, he read : 

“ SAD EFFECTS OF RUM. 

“ Last evening, as a drunken woman was 
crossing Tenth St., leading by the hand a 
little girl of six or seven years, she fell just 
as a runaway horse dashed around the corner. 
The woman escaped unharmed, but the poor 
child, who had been pulled down by the fall 
of her drunken mother right before the 
frantic animal, was so severely injured that 
she was at once removed to the hospital. 
Her injuries, even should they not prove 


40 


Amid the Shadows . 


fatal, will doubtless render her a cripple for 
life. 

“ The mother, too intoxicated to understand 
what had happened to her little girl, or even 
to give her own name, was taken to the 
station-house for the night.” 

Had the name of his Nellie been written 
in blazing letters, he could not have been 
more certain of the identity of those name- 
less ones. 

His Nellie passing the night in the station- 
house ! His little Nellie lying in a hospital, 
with none but strangers to minister to her 
wants or soothe her sufferings ! 

Which way should he turn ? What should 
he do ? His heart seemed frozen. 

His little boy came to him then, and laying 
his hand on his bowed head, asked : 

“ Papa, what is the matter ? Where are 
mamma and sister Nellie ?” 

“Sister Nellie is sick, Luke, and papa 


How the Shadow Fell. 


4i 

wants to go to her ; but how can he leave 
you and baby ?” 

“ I’ll take care of Jennie, papa ; I often do. 
I can get milk right around here, at the 
corner, if you will give me some pennies, and 
I’ll take care of her till you come back.” 

“And who will give you your breakfast, 
Luke ? Papa don’t want any.” 

“ Oh, I’ll get that too. Go, papa, and bring 
home mamma and sister Nellie ; don’t worry 
about me or baby.” 

Trusting to his manly little boy to do all 
that he had promised, he left the house on 
his mournful errand. He proceeded at once 
to the station-house, but finding, upon in- 
quiry, that his wife had already been taken 
to the police-court, with a heavy heart he 
went into the room to which he had been 
directed. As he entered, he could not raise 
his eyes. He was conscious that the room 
was filled, but he dreaded seeing his Nellie 


/ 


42 


Amid the Shadows. 


there. Around him he heard rude jokes 
and suppressed laughter, as, to one after 
another of the vagrants or criminals, various 
degrees of punishment were assigned. He 
was sure that those making these remarks 
could not be here upon the same errand as 
himself. No, no ! all around him were idle 
spectators, almost gloating over the mis- 
fortunes of their fellow-mortals. They had 
not in that unhappy group one dearer to 
them than life itself. 

What did he hear? Yes, his Nellie’s 
name — “ Nellie Ray.” How could it be 
possible ! But he heard the same form of 
examination gone through with in her case, 
as in that of the others, and then heard the 
justice’s sentence. As this was the first 
offence, a small fine, with payment of the 
costs, was imposed ; in default of which the 
sentence was an imprisonment of five days. 

Without a word he stepped forward and 


How the Shadow Fell . 43 

paid the fine ; then turned to where his wife 
stood. Oh, how his heart sank as he looked 
for the first time at the miserable group ! 
There were young girls, evidently taking 
the first step in the downward course ; there 
were others whose looks of bold defiance 
marked them as hardened and shameless. 
Others were there whose gray hairs would 
soon rest in nameless drunkards’ graves. 

His Nellie an associate of such as these ! 
It must surely be some hideous dream [ His 
awakening would restore to him the loving 
wife of former years. 

No ! no ! shocking and repulsive as the 
truth was, it was truth still ; and without a 
word passing between them, he led his wife 
out from the polluted air of the court-room 
into the pure air of heaven. 

Silently they passed from street to street 
until they reached their own door. 

Then he paused — he could not upbraid 


44 


Amid the Shadows . 


his wife — her punishment had been heavy 
enough already. If this lesson would prove 
useful to her, gladly would he bear his por- 
tion of it, heavy though it was ; for this blow 
had fallen upon his heart, striking him just 
where its weight might be felt most keenly. 

With the hope of this result sending a ray 
of sunshine into his heart, he could speak 
kindly, as he said, “Nellie, I must leave 
you now, and look for our little Nellie.” 

“ Little Nellie ! Where is she ?” 

“ Don’t you remember what happened ?” 

“Oh John! what is it ? I have a dim 
recollection of something terrible, but I can’t 
make.it all out. I was hurrying home with 
Nellie to get your supper, and I heard some- 
thing about a horse. Then I fell, and hit 
my head. I didn’t wake up until I wakened 
in that dreadful place in the middle of the 
night. I thought Nellie had gone home. 
Where is she ? Tell me !” 


How the Shadow Fell. 45 

How could he repeat to her the heart- 
rending story ? He could not form it into 
words, much less could he trust himself to 
utter them had he been able to do so. 

He knew not what the result might be, 
but he could see but one way in which to 
inform her of the sad truth. 

She was sober now, but she missed her 
usual morning glass, which she always took 
as soon as her husband had gone to his work, 
and was safely out of sight. 

Suspecting the real cause of her excitement, 
he in answer to her oft-repeated inquiries, 
silently handed her the paper in which he 
had first read the words, that seemed yet 
burning into his heart like coals of fire. 

As she read the heading of the paragraph, 
he watched her face. It was pale, but 
whether from remorse or suppressed anger, 
he could not tell. She read the notice 
through, and then, dashing the paper upon 


46 


Amid the Shadows. 


the floor, resentment drowned all feelings of 
maternal anxiety. 

It was all a lie ; she wasn’t drunk at all ! 
What did any one mean by calling her that ? 
Just as if the glass of beer that one of her 
friends gave her, could make her drunk ! 
She had slipped and hurt herself, and nobody 
cared for that ; they only cared for that 
clumsy child ! 

“Such nonsense about Nellie being so 
much injured, — that was all a lie, too. She 
didn’t hurt herself as much as she did.” 

Knowing that all remonstrance was vain, 
he left the house, dreading, even then, lest 
some harm might befall his children from the 
violent anger of their mother. 

He need not have feared; scarcely had he 
turned the corner, when she too left the 
house, and hastened to satisfy the cravings 
of her terrible appetite. When he return- 
ed, a couple of hours afterwards, he found 


How the Shadow Fell. 


47 


Luke lulling to sleep his fretful little sister. 

He had found his little Nellie, and had 
had confirmed to him what he had at first 
heard ; his darling having hopelessly injured 
her spine, would doubtless be a cripple as 
long as she lived. 

She had been so glad to see him, inquiring 
so affectionately whether mamma got hurt. 
At first he felt that he could not leave her 
among strangers ; but it was, of course, im- 
possible to remove her. Then, as he looked 
at the comforts around, and thought of what 
he had to offer her, he became reconciled to 
the thought of going home without her, the 
more so as she seemed so willing to stay 
among those who had already been so 
kind. 

Month after month now passed. Upon 
Luke seemed to rest the greater part of the 
household duties, not the least of which was 
the care of his baby sister ; but he performed 


48 


Amid the Shadows. 


all faithfully, and the boy of six seemed to 
have the heart of a man. 

Then Nellie came home. Nothing more 
could be done for her at the hospital, and 
she wanted to be with her father ; for Luke, 
who had occasionally visited her, had, when 
closely questioned, told her enough to let her 
suspect that her mother did nothing to make 
home happy for him. 

As Mr. Ray leaned against the doorway 
of the saloon, all these events of the past 
years passed before his mind, just as, before 
a drowning person, it is said, the events of a 
whole life-time will pass with panoramic dis- 
tinctness in a second of time. 

Of the last years, Mr. Ray did not like to 
think. All the shadow that had fallen on 
their hearth during these first years of sorrow 
had been thrown there by his wife’s conduct ; 
but conscience whispered that, during these 
last years, another shadow had been gradu- 


How the Shadow Fell. 


49 


ally stealing across from the other side of the 
hearth, threatening, if it met the old one, to 
engulf the whole home in darkest gloom. 

Y es, he could not deny it, even to himself ; 
discouraged and disheartened, he had often 
left his brave little ones to fight the battle of 
life alone, while he, instead of spending his 
leisure hours in brightening their lives, had 
got into the habit of trying to forget his 
troubles in some brilliantly lighted saloon, 
among a few boon companions. 

Satisfied that he was not drinking to ex- 
cess, as his wife was, he went on and on, 
unconscious that his feet were on the very 
edge of the fearful precipice. 

His wages barely sufficed to supply his 
family with the necessaries of life ; for (it was 
vain to try to hide it from himself) he was 
not the workman he once was, and so could 
not command first-class wages. 

His wife was employed in a few families as 
4 


50 


Amid the Shadows . 


washerwoman. She had commenced to go 
out to work, not so much to help her hus- 
band, as to be able to supply herself with 
means to gratify her appetite. 

Upon Nellie, with the aid of Luke, and 
Jennie, now seven years old, rested the whole 
responsibility of the house ; and now that a 
sickly little baby had come among them, her 
duties were heavier than ever, for her mother 
never seemed to realize that any of the care 
of it rested upon her. 

Mr. Ray’s thoughts lingered over his 
home as it now was. It had changed out- 
wardly as well as inwardly. The dear little 
house, to which he proudly led his Nellie as 
a bride, had long since been sold by the 
sheriff. Again and again had they been 
compelled to move, each time taking one 
step downward, until now, the place he called 
home, was an unpainted, two-roomed house 
on the very outskirts of town. The front 


How the Shadow Fell. 5 1 

yard, unlike that of their first home, which 
was always bright with flowers, was dirty 
and neglected ; the gate hanging by one 
rusty hinge, invited many a passing pig or 
goose to visit it ; and their visits, spent in 
wallowing and scratching, did not tend to 
improve materially its appearance. 

Luke, passing by bright flower beds, 
sometimes wondered whether it would be 
possible to make their yard look pretty ; but, 
receiving no encouragement if he mentioned 
the subject at home, he had grown accus- 
tomed to its look of neglect, and seemed to 
accept, as something for which there was no 
help, the fact that in their lives there was no 
place for flowers or sunshine. 

Softened by these thoughts of the past 
and present, Mr. Ray turned from the door 
of the saloon without entering. He would 
go home, and share the burden with his 
children. 


52 


Amid the Shadows. 


He had taken a few steps in that direction, 
when a hand was laid heavily on his shoul- 
der, and a familiar voice cheerily said to 
him : 

“Why man, what in the world is the 
matter with you ? Here I’ve been on the 
other side of the street watching you for the 
last fifteen minutes. I thought you were 
making up your mind what you would take, 
and now, just as your countenance cleared a 
little, and I thought you had decided, you 
turn away without going in. Why, man, 
you must be crazy !” 

“ Oh, Ellis, is it you ?” said Mr. Ray, 
carelessly, fearful lest his companion might 
have read his thoughts. “ I changed my 
mind. I believe I wont take anything 
to-night.” 

“ Nonsense, Ray, don’t be foolish. You’ve 
got the blues — nothing like a stiff glass to 
drive them away. Now, I never get them, 


How the Shadow Fell. 


53 


but it does me good to spend an evening 
with my friends.” 

“ But, really, Ellis, I ought to go home.” 

“ Ought to go home ! That’s a nice 
story. I expect you’ve got a wife like mine. 
She don’t want a fellow ever to enjoy him- 
self ; she’d have him always at home. 
Nonsense — I get out of patience with such 
women.” 

“No,” said Mr. Ray, glad to find, by his 
companion’s remark, that he had no sus- 
picion of the truth, “ that’s not it, but I don’t 
think I’ll take anything to-night.” 

“Yes, you will, and I’ll treat. Come along : 
it will be time enough to talk about going 
home, after we have had a chat over a glass.” 

Yielding to the tempter, Mr. Ray allowed 
himself to be led into the saloon he had just 
left, and soon, the erring wife, and the patient 
little children, were alike forgotten. 

He had but lately moved into the neighbor- 


54 


Amid the Shadows . 


hood, and was a comparative stranger in this 
bar-room. No one there knew the nature 
of the dark shadow that cast its gloom over 
his home. Had he whispered it, all, but 
perhaps a few of the most hardened, would 
have shuddered with disgust, and heaped 
opprobrium and reproach upon a woman who 
could thus blight the happiness of her hus- 
band’s life. 

The man whom he addressed as “ Ellis,” 
would have told him that he had abundant 
excuse for spending every evening, just as 
he was now doing. 

Would he have thought his arguments 
just as weighty, if his pale, over-worked wife, 
who, night after night, waited for him until 
after midnight, had used them as an excuse 
for escaping from the shadow that his conduct 
was casting over their home, and forgetting 
her burden in a social glass ? 



III. 



THE SHADOW ON THE JUDGE S HOME. 

“ The rich and the poor meet together.” — Prov. xxii. 2. 

jJUDGE ARNOLD did not know 
how anxiously he was being watched 
for, or, doubtless, he would have 
quickened his steps as he came home from 
his office. As it was, he paused once or 
twice to admire the bright sunset picture, 
and, loitering along on his way, feeling that 
his day’s work was over, the - brightness had 
almost faded away, leaving only here and 
there a streak among the gray, when he 
reached his own door. 

Scarcely had his key turned in the lock, 


56 


Amid the Shadows . 


when the door was flung open, and a loving 
voice exclaimed, 

“ Why, father dear, how late you are ! 
Here I’ve been watching and watching for 
you ever so long. Sister Gerty hasn't come 
home yet, nor Harry either. I’ve had 
nobody but pussy to play with.” 

“ Why, my dear little darling, that was too 
bad and the loving father lifted in his arms 
the pet of the household, his little motherless 
Mabel. 

“Gerty not home yet? why, she’s late. 
Never mind, darling ; you and I will entertain 
each other until she comes.” 

“ I hear her now ;” and Mabel slipped from 
her father’s arms, and ran to open the door 
f or her older sister. 

“There, Gerty,” she exclaimed, even 
before she had reached the hall, “ father’s 
got home before you.” 

“ And now where’s Harry ?” asked their 


The Shadow on the ^Judge's Home. 57 

father, as his daughter Gertrude affectionately 
put her arms around his neck, and kissed 
him. “ Mabel and I are waiting patiently for 
our supper.” 

“He is out by the door, father ; he is 
talking to George Derby.” 

A cloud, imperceptible perhaps to any one 
less observant than his daughter, passed over 
Judge Arnold’s face, but, without making any 
remark, he requested Gertrude to order 
supper, and have the supper-bell rung loudly. 
Its second peal was followed by the opening 
of the front door, and with a parting — “ Yes, 
George, I’ll be sure to be there,” Harry 
Arnold entered the house, and took his seat 
at the supper table. 

He was a bright, handsome young man of 
twenty — -just such a one as might be expected 
to be the help and comfort of his father, and 
the friend and companion of his sister. 

Gertrude sat opposite her father, and on 


58 


Amid the Shadows. 


her calm, intelligent face was to-night a look 
of unusual thoughtfulness. 

Mabel sat opposite Harry, and her con- 
tinual chatter served to fill up any pauses in 
the conversation that might otherwise have 
been unpleasant. 

Their father appeared as if the cloud that 
had momentarily passed over his face, had 
more than a temporary cause ; and at times, 
it evidently required an effort for him to be 
cheerful. However, after Gertrude had sup- 
plied him with his second cup of coffee, he 
roused himself, and noticing the look of deep 
concern upon her face, asked what she was 
thinking upon so earnestly. 

“ Only something that I saw to-day, father, 
that worried me. A new scholar came into 
my class in the mission-school, a few Sundays 
ago, in whom I have taken particular interest. 
His name is Luke Ray ; but where he comes 
from I don’t know, as he seemed so averse to 


The Shadow on the Judge's Home. 59 

saying anything about his home that I for- 
bore questioning him. One thing about him 
puzzled me last Sunday. I was talking to my 
class about temperance, and I wanted all the 
boys to promise that they wouldn’t even go 
into a tavern. As I talked, Luke, who is 
generally interested in everything connected 
with the lesson, turned his head away, but I 
could see that his face was scarlet. The 
other boys promised to shun such places, but 
he didn’t say a word. I couldn’t understand 
it then, but I am afraid that I have found out 
the reason to-day. This afternoon, while 
looking up my scholars, I passed that low 
tavern at the corner of Elm Street, and, 
would you believe it, father, just then the 
door opened, and Luke came out, his face, if 
anything, more flushed than it was last Sun- 
day. I know that he saw me, but he did not 
speak ; and when I called after him, he dis- 
appeared quickly around the corner, and I 


Amid the Shadows. 


.60 

could not catch sight of him again. I have 
heard that even boys sometimes have a 
taste for liquor, but I can’t think it of Luke, 
and yet, what did it mean ?” 

During this conversation, Harry twisted 
and turned uneasily in his chair, while his 
face wore a look of sneering contempt ; and 
at the close of his sister’s remarks, he ex- 
claimed abruptly : 

“ Now, Gert, you’re on your old hobby 
again. Isn’t it enough to preach to the boys 
all Sunday, without watching them all the 
week, too ? Let the boy alone ; if he was 
having a little fun, it was no business of 
yours. I’m tired and sick of hearing about 
those boys. There isn’t much use in a fellow 
coming home to supper if he is to hear 
preaching all the time.” 

“ Harry,” spoke his father, authoritatively, 
“ do not speak to your sister in that manner. 
She was merely answering my question.” 


The Shadow on the Judge's Home. 61 

The young man still stood too much in 
awe of his father to disobey him directly, so, 
with an impatient gesture, he rose from the 
table, and went up to his own room. 

Judge Arnold pushed from him his cup of 
coffee almost untasted, and Gertrude, scarcely 
able to control the tears that would start 
unbidden to her eyes, busied herself in at- 
tending to the numerous wants of little 
Mabel. 

Supper ended, the three returned to the 
cheerful sitting-room. A bright fire burned 
in the grate ; for, even though it was early 
autumn, the evening was cool enough to ren- 
der its warmth welcome. Judge Arnold took 
his accustomed seat in his arm chair before it, 
but Gertrude seated herself where she could 
command a view of the front stairs ; and even 
while interesting herself in a dissected map, 
that Mabel was sure she could not put 
together without sister Gerty’s help, her 


62 


Amid the Shadows. 


thoughts were evidently far away from it and 
its owner, and her eyes were continually 
seeking the spot where she might first catch 
sight of her brother. 

Presently she heard him leave his room, 
and hurriedly crossing into the hall, she met 
him at the foot of the stairs. 

Harry would have passed her without a 
word, but, intent on her purpose, she lovingly 
laid her hand upon his arm, and, looking up 
earnestly into his half- averted face, said 
coaxingly : 

“ Harry, won’t you stay and have some 
music to-night ? I bought a new piece 
to-day, and I want you to try it with your 
flute.” 

“ I don’t want any music.” 

“ Then we’ll have a game of chess or 
backgammon,” pleaded his sister, persist- 
ently. 

“No, I don’t want that either. The fact is, 


The Shadow on the Judge's Home. 63 

I have an engagement this evening. I shall 
be late now, if you keep me here talking ; and 
Gert, you needn’t wait up for me ; I have the 
key, and I don’t know when I’ll be home.” 
And without giving his sister time for further 
remonstrance, Harry passed into the street, 
closing the door behind him. 

With a feeling of intense disappointment, 
Gertrude returned to the sitting-room. 

Her father looked up as she came in, and 
asked : 

“ Did Harry go out ?” 

“Yes, father. I tried to persuade him to 
stay, but he said that he had an engagement.” 

“What did George Derby say to him, 
Gertrude, as he left this evening ?” 

“ I did not hear what he said, father : I 
only heard Harry’s reply.” 

“And what was that ?” 

“ That he would be sure to be there.” 

“ I feared so. Gertrude, I don’t like that 


04 


Amid the Shadows. 


young man, and I am afraid he is having a 
bad influence over Harry.” 

Gertrude was silent, but the hand that 
rested on her father’s chair trembled per- 
ceptibly, and the flush that spread over her 
face might have given her father fresh cause 
for alarm, had she been standing where he 
could see it. 

So intent was the Judge upon his own 
thoughts, that, seeming scarcely to notice 
that his last remark remained unanswered, 
he continued : 

“ He doesn’t come here lately as often as 
he once did. I hoped from that, that Harry 
and he were not together as much as formerly, 
but I am afraid they meet outside.” 

Anxious to bring to a close this conversa- 
tion, which she feared might become more 
and more trying, Gertrude excused herself, 
saying that she must put Mabel to bed, for 
the little darling had fallen asleep, with her 


The Shadow on the Judge's Home . 65 

curls scattered from Maine to California. 

Safe in the quiet of her own room, with 
the little sister, who was scarcely conscious 
of any care but hers, sleeping sweetly on the 
pillow, she knelt in prayer, and as, with her 
lips, she prayed for her erring brother, her 
heart united with his name that of another, 
very, very dear to her, and the petition that 
ascended for one, was, to the hearer and 
answerer of our heart-prayers, meant for two. 

Knowing that her father would miss her, 
she returned to him, determined by cheer- 
fulness, forced if need be, to make the 
evening a pleasant one for him. In this 
she succeeded, and the loving daughter, who 
had, since Mabel’s early infancy, been the 
sole light of her father’s home, was rewarded 
by seeing the cloud, for a time, lift, and the 
evening was spent as many previous ones 
had been — the judge reading aloud to her 
while she sewed. 

5 


66 


Amid the Shadows. 


As the clock struck ten he closed his 
book, and looking at his daughter, said : 

“ There, Gertrude, do you hear that ? 
Why, how quickly the evening has passed. 
It is time that Harry was at home.” 

“ I don’t think that he will be at home 
very early, to-night,” said she, hesitatingly. 

“ Why ? Did he say he wouldn’t ?” 

“Yes, father, he said that he might be 
late, and that I needn’t wait for him, as he 
had the key.” 

“ And what shall you do, dear ?” 

“ I’ll go to my room, father, and wait 
there. Don’t be afraid ; I shall not sleep. 
I will not let Harry see me, or it* might 
make him angry ; but, I’ll not close my door 
until he closes his.” 

“ He is never home at prayers, now, 
Gertrude.” 

“ I know it, father, but what can we do ?” 

“ I am at a loss to know what is the best 


The Shadow on the Judges Home . 67 

thing to do. One thing though is sure, my 
daughter ; we can pray for him, even though 
he is absent, and then leave him in Gods 
hands.” 

The father, after reading a chapter from 
the Bible, knelt beside his daughter ; and did 
not our Saviour promise that where two 
agreed on earth as touching anything they 
asked, it should be done for them ? 

Was it the wing of the angel as he bore 
the prayer to the throne of grace, that wafted 
to Harry Arnold a remembrance of a sisters 
touch upon his arm — a remembrance which 
caused him to throw down on the table the 
cards, with which some one older in vice 
than himself, had almost persuaded him to 
try his luck ! 

“Not going, yet, Harry?” said George 
Derby, from another table, where he had 
been playing. 

“ Well, yes,” replied Harry, hesitatingly. 


68 


Amid the Shadows. 


“I guess I will go home early, for once.” 

“ Why, man, what has got into you ? It’s 
only ten o’clock. No, indeed ! our evening’s 
not half over. Come, I’ve just finished my 
game. I’m in luck, to-night, so I’ll treat the 
whole party. Come, gentlemen,” and he 
glanced around the several tables, “ I’ll 
stand treat for all to-night ; I feel generous.” 

So saying, he led the way from the gam- 
bling room, into which he had this evening, 
for the first time, introduced his young 
friend, Harry Arnold, to a neighboring 
saloon, followed unreluctantly by half a 
dozen young men, whose appearance in- 
dicated that their parents were far above 
the middle walks of life, and might expect, 
from their sons, something different from the 
course in which evidently they were walking. 

The room which they entered was bril- 
liantly lighted, and the deference with 
which they were treated by the attendants, 


The Shadow on the Judges Home. 69 

flattered the vanity of the young men, who, 
not sufficiently versed in the ways of the 
world to fathom its real meaning, did not 
read, in this mock deference, a repetition of 
the flattery which the nursery song ascribes 
to the crafty spider, who, intent upon catch- 
ing the fly, was unable to lure him into his 
web in any other way. 

Glasses were soon emptied, and others 
called for, and soon Harry Arnolds determi- 
nation to return home early, was entirely 
forgotten. 

By midnight who will draw a line of dis- 
tinction between these fashionable young 
men, in this gay room in the fashionable part 
of the city, the party at the third-rate, saloon 
where John Ray and Mark Ellis spent their 
evening, and Mrs. Ray and her companions 
in Fagan’s tavern on Elm Street ? 

All were alike drunk, — but Fagan, now 
that his customers’ money was all spent, 


70 


Amid the Shadows . 


turned them from the step, closing and bar- 
ring the door. John Rays landlord, finding 
his customers growing noisy, threatened to 
call the police if the disturbance were not 
quelled; but Harry Arnold and George 
Derby, with their companions, were merely 
politely requested not to be quite so lively ; 
and when, one round of glasses more being 
wanted, all found their money expended, how 
assuringly the landlord laughed at their per- 
plexity, calling it a matter of no importance 
whatever ; but careful, when unobserved, to 
add this to a few other items of a bill, which, 
he promised himself, the rich Judge Arnold 
would pay without a question. 

Gertrude Arnold sat in her beautiful room 
with her Bible before her, watching and 
praying for her wandering brother. Mrs. 
Ellis sat in her lonely room in the crowded 
tenement house, watching and praying too 
for her loved one, but busy still with the 


The Shadow on the Judges Home. 71 

sewing that must help to eke out the dimin- 
ishing wages of her husband. Little Nellie 
Ray lay uneasily on the floor beside the 
cradle, ministering ever and anon to the little 
sufferer, watching, but alas, not praying for 
those from whom she had a right to expect 
comfort and support. 



IV. 


MARRYING HIM TO REFORM HIM. 

“Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers. — 
What communion hath light with darkness ?” — 2 Cor. vi. 14. 



ERTRUDE ARNOLD heard the 
hall door close violently, and knew 
that George Derby had left her, 


angry. 

He had sought this interview, though she 
had done all in her power to avoid it. It 
gave her no less pain than it gave him, and 
she knew that it was worse than useless ; 
but the evening before, as she returned from 
her accustomed walk, he had joined her, 
and, when parting at her father’s door, just 
as Harry came up, had said, hurriedly : 


Marrying Him to Reform Him . 73 

“ Gertrude, I must speak again.” 

“ George, it is useless; I have answered 
you.” 

With persistence he had replied : 

“ I will not receive your answer. I must 
see you to-morrow morning. Will you be 
at home ?” 

Seeing that it would be better to grant 
his request, but, foreseeing the pain it would 
cause both, she had reluctantly assented. 

When they met, she was the more com- 
posed of the two. Seizing her hands in 
both of his, he exclaimed : 

“ Gertrude, do you know what you are 
doing ? You are driving me to destruction !” 

Her heart beat quickly, and at the 
moment her determination wavered, but 
only for an instant. Her preparation for 
this interview was derived from a higher 
source than her own strength, and, with a 
silent prayer for help, she calmly withdrew 


74 


Amid the Shadows. 


her hands from his, and seated herself near 
the window. 

George Derby leaned against the mantel, 
and with his dark eyes fixed intently upon 
her, said : 

“ Gertrude Arnold, do you hear me ? 
You are driving me to destruction ! You 
have acknowledged that my love for you 
is returned, and yet, because of a foolish 
whim, you persistently refuse to promise to 
become my wife. I have told you, again 
and again, that, if you will marry me, you 
can make me what you please. I promise 
to reform ; but, if not, I will throw myself 
away, and with you will rest the responsi- 
bility.” 

“ George,” spoke Gertrude, with a forced 
calmness that surprised herself, “ I can but 
answer you as I have done at other interviews. 
I do not deny that you are very, very dear 
to me, but I will never marry a man having 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 75 

the habits that you know you have. You 
call it a whim, but would you call it by the 
same name if the case were reversed ; if I 
had your habits ? Would you marry a 
woman whose evenings were spent where, 
I know too well, yours are ?” 

“ Nonsense, Gertrude ; as if that were a 
parallel case. There are a good many things 
allowable for a man, that would be highly 
improper for a woman. Such reasoning is 
perfectly absurd.” 

“ Absurd or not, it is the truth. I have 
just as much right to demand purity in you, 
as you have in me.” 

“ But haven’t I told you that you can re- 
form me ?” 

“ Excuse me, George, if I tell you that I 
have no faith in such a promise. It may 
seem to you now a very easy thing ; but if 
my influence over you in our present rela- 
tions has no such effect, I cannot believe 


76 Amid the Shadows. 

that, as your wife, I could do more.” 

“ Gertrude, can you speak to me so coldly, 
and yet pretend to love me ?” 

“ George, God only knows what it costs 
me to speak thus, but, much as I love you, I 
love my Saviour more, and I should prove 
unfaithful to Him were I to unite myself to 
one who openly disavows all faith in Him, 
and who has become so completely enslaved 
by a terrible appetite, that no strength but 
that of heaven can break its chains.” 

“ Then you are willing to take the respon- 
sibility of driving me to destruction ?” 

“That, George, is a powerless argument 
with me. A man is unworthy of the name, 
who has so little self-respect that he would 
allow any adverse circumstances to drive 
him to destruction.” 

“ Then you will not care when you find 
that I have thrown myself away ?” 

“ George, you cannot speak so to me. Go 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 77 

where you will, you may still bear in mind 
that I am ever praying for you ; and if, as 
you say, my influence, under some circum- 
stances, would lead you to a better life, let 
thoughts of me now keep your feet from the 
downward path.” 

“ Gertrude, this is unbearable ! Did you 
feel one half the love for me that I do for 
you, you would let no obstacles stand be- 
tween us.” 

“Neither would I, George, if the obstacles 
were such as God would bid me pass un- 
noticed, but they are not. I repeat what I 
have already said : I would never marry any 
man who did not share with me my love to the 
Saviour ; neither would I marry one whose 
habits were such, that it would be the merest 
mockery for me to pray that God would 
make my married life a happy one. 

“ George, dear George, may I not beg of 
you to pause before you go further? Not 


78 


Amid the Shadows . 


for my sake alone — I would not have you 
do aught for me, but for the sake of your 
own soul, for the sake of Him who died for 
you — stop !” 

A new light flashed over the young man’s 
face. 

“ And if I do all this, will you promise to 
marry me at once ?” 

“ I promise nothing, George. I told you, 
not for my sake, but your own, to do it.” 

A look of dark malice took the place of 
the momentary light, as he replied : 

“ You are just as unreasonable as the rest 
of women. You want me to do something, 
and then won’t give me what I ask if I prom- 
ise to do it. No, Gertrude, I go from you 
now determined to go lower and lower, and 
you may know that it is all your fault. I’ll 
go to destruction, and,” he muttered between 
his teeth, “ I’ll not go alone, either.” 

Without another word he left her, and the 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 79 

loud slamming of the door, roused Gertrude 
to a realization of the fact, that, between them, 
a door had been irrevocably closed. 

She had had strength given her for this 
painful interview, and now, all necessity for 
self-control past, her overstrained nerves gave 
way, and leaning her head upon the arm of 
the sofa, she sobbed as if all the brightness 
had left her life forever. 

Hearing footsteps in the hall, she quickly 
dried her tears, and escaped to her own room 
unobserved. There she could hold com- 
munion with her Saviour; and, though all 
seemed so dark for the time, a light shone 
from above, and she could feel resting upon 
her His approving smile. 

A knock at the door disturbed her medita- 
tion, and, opening it, she found there a servant 
who said that one of her Sunday-school boys 
wished to see her. 

Bathing her eyes to remove all traces of 


8o 


Amid the Shadows. 


her late emotion, she passed down to the 
hall door. 

“ Well, Charlie Ellis,” said she to a bright 
boy of ten, who was waiting on the step 
outside, “ did you want to see me ?” 

“ Won’t you please come to see mother, 
miss ? She said she’d like to see you. 
We’re in so much trouble, miss, but mother ’ll 
tell you all about it.” 

“ Yes, Charlie, I’ll come right away, if you 
tell me just where you live ; you know I have 
never been there.” 

Having received necessary instructions, 
and glad to have anything to occupy her 
mind in place of the thoughts that so troubled 
her, Gertrude was soon finding her way 
among tenement houses in the lower part of 
the city. Having reached the one to which 
she had been directed, she ascended at once 
to the third story, and knocked at a door at 
the head of the stairs. 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 81 

It was quickly opened by Charlie, who 
exclaimed joyfully : 

“ She’s here, mother — here’s Miss Arnold.” 

A woman with a pale, care-worn face rose 
to meet her, saying : 

“ It was so good of you, miss, to come so 
soon. You’ve been so kind to Charlie in 
Sunday-school, that I wanted to tell you all 
about it — but perhaps you’ve seen it in the 
papers.” 

“ Seen what in the papers, Mrs. Ellis ? I 
don’t know what you mean.” 

“ About Mark, miss and the tears, which 
the poor woman had, with difficulty, controlled 
while speaking, burst forth afresh. 

“ Whom ? your husband ? What should 
I see about him ? Sit down, Mrs. Ellis, and 
calm yourself. Then you can tell me all 
about it.” 

After a moment, Mrs. Ellis so far composed 

herself as to be able to tell her story, inter- 
6 


82 


Amid the Shadows . 


rupted ever and anon by her suppressed sobs. 

“ You see, miss, Mark’s a real good man, 
except when he has liquor, but he will take 
it, and he won’t hear a word from me. Well, 
miss, last night I asked him to stay at home, 
but he wouldn’t do it, and I waited and 
waited for him until nearly one o’clock. 
When I heard him coming, I went to bed, 
atnd pretended to be asleep ; for you see, 
miss, he don’t like to have me wait for him. 
I knew he was drunk when he came in, but 
he seemed frightened, too. He bolted the 
door, and piled chairs against it, but I was 
afraid to ask what was the matter. 

“ This morning, early, I was up making 
the fire, when I heard some men coming 
up-stairs, and they knocked at our door. 
That wakened Mark ; he jumped out of bed, 
and crawling under it, whispered, ‘ Mary, 
tell them I ain’t here.’ I did not know what 
he meant, but when I heard the knocking 


Marrying Him to Reform Him . 83 

again, I opened the door, and there stood 
two policemen. Oh, miss, I was so fright- 
ened, and they said they wanted Mark. 
I knew what he had told me, so I said he 
wasn’t here. I knew it wasn’t true, but, 
indeed, I scarcely knew what I was saying. 
They did not take any notice of me, but 
came right in, and looked under the bed the 
first thing, and made Mark come out. 
They said they were going to take him 
away. 

“ Oh, miss, it was dreadful ! I asked 
what was the matter, but I was so frightened 
that I hardly know what they said ; but it 
was something about hurting some man, 
and they were afraid the man would die. 
They took him to prison to wait to see what 
would happen. Oh, miss, what shall I do ! 
what shall I do ?” 

Gertrude waited until this burst of grief, 
started afresh by the recital of her story, had 


8 4 


Amid the Shadows . 


spent itself, and then said, with real sympa- 
thy in her voice : 

“ I am very, very sorry for you, Mrs. 
Ellis. Perhaps it isn’t as bad as you think. 
The man may not be hurt much, and, if so, 
your husband will probably be released at 
once.” 

“Oh, miss, it is good in you to say so, 
but it is so hard. We could be so happy, 
Mark, and Charlie, and I, if he would only 
let drink alone.” 

“Yes, indeed, Mrs. Ellis, that is the 
foundation of so much trouble ;” and Gertrude 
thought of her own home — the same dark 
shadow rested there too. Turn where she 
would, from palace to hovel, it seemed to 
cast its gloom over all. 

Glad to find a sympathizing ear into 
which she might pour the story of her grief, 
Mrs. Ellis resumed : 

“Yes, miss, it was a happy home, once. 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 85 

Mark was a good husband, and we got 
along nicely.” 

“ Why then did he begin to drink ?” said 
Gertrude, glad to forget her own troubles, 
while listening to those of others. “ Some 
men say that they are driven to it, because 
their homes are not happy.” 

“ Well, miss, you see he always took a 
little.” 

“ What ! even when you married him ?” 

“ Well, yes, miss. This was the way of 
it. When Mark came courting me, he 
was just the nicest young man in our village. 
He was a clerk in the biggest grocery store 
there, and everybody said that the firm 
would soon take him in as partner. When 
he came to see me, all the other girls were 
real jealous, and I was — oh, so happy. 

“ Father didn’t like him to come, for, you 
see, he had been in the store after groceries, 
once or twice, when Mark had to draw 


86 


Amid the Shadows. 


liquor for a customer, and each time father 
had seen him drink some. Then, when 
Mark came courting me, father told me 
about it, and warned me never to marry 
him. Father didn’t like it, either, because 
he would be out riding on Sunday instead 
of going to church. You see, he was a 
deacon, and thought everybody ought to go. 
I was a church member, too, but, I thought 
young men had to be lively, and I wouldn’t 
blame him for it. Father kept me away 
from him, as much as he could ; so after a 
while Mark noticed it, and asked me what 
he had against him. ‘ Oh, father, hasn’t 
anything against you,’ I said. You see I was 
ashamed to tell him the truth. 

“ Well then he told me that he wanted me 
to marry him, but he knew that father didn’t 
like him, and he wanted to know why. 
Well, he asked so often that I thought I had 
better tell him, so I said, ‘ He don’t like it, 


Marrying Him to Reform Him . 87 

because you don’t go to church, and because 
he saw you drink some liquor.’ 

“ He just burst out laughing then, and 
said, ‘Well, is that all? Why, Mary, I’ll go 
to church, if you want me to ; and as to 
drinking — I don’t really care for it ; it’s only 
in the way of business ; just to draw cus- 
tomers, you know ; and just as soon as we 
are married, I’ll stop. Why, Mary, I’ll see 
your father, and tell him that it will be the 
very making of me. I’ll reform, and be 
everything you want me to be.’ 

“Well, miss, he saw father, and talked 
him over to letting us get married ; but I 
knew he hadn’t much faith in Mark’s promise, 
but I had ; and when he once said something 
to me about seeing Mark a little the worse 
for liquor, I said, ‘ But you know, father, he 
says, I’ll reform him.’ Father shook his head, 
and I knew he wasn’t satisfied; but as he saw 
I had my heart set on it, he let us get married. 


88 


Amid the Shadows. 


“ At first everything went on smoothly. 
Mark was at home every evening, and I 
thought father needn’t have worried so. 

“ After we had been married about three 
months, Mark came home one evening later 
than usual, and when he kissed me,' I smelt 
liquor. I said, ‘Why, Mark, you promised 
to stop after we were married.’ 

“ Then he spoke real cross — the first time, 
miss, he had ever said a cross word to me ; 
and he said I stood in the way of his busi- 
ness ; that he had to be pleasant with cus- 
tomers; but, if I kept up such silly, old-fash- 
ioned notions, I’d ruin him. That was the 
first of it, miss. After that I couldn’t say 
anything, and he never mentioned his 
promise again. It has been just growing 
worse and worse. He never comes home 
until twelve or one o’clock, and now this has 
come. They have taken him to prison, and 
may be they will hang him. Oh, dear! 


Marrying Him to Reform Him . 89 

what shall I do ? what shall I do ? Poor, 
dear Mark ! It’s only the liquor, miss ; when 
he hasn’t got that, he is the best man in 
town.” 

Gertrude could not answer ; she saw now 
why she had come to this sorrowing wife. 

After a pause, she said : 

“ Mrs. Ellis, you said that you were a 
church member. Have you looked upward 
for strength to bear all your trials ?” 

“To tell you the truth, miss, after we were 
married, Mark only went to church two 
Sundays, and then, when he stayed at home, 

I didn’t want to go alone, so I got out of the 
way of it, and you see I got careless, and, 
after a while, didn’t even pray. I never read 
my Bible, and never taught my little chil- 
dren to say their prayers. Oh, miss, I got 
so wicked, but I wasn’t happy. Sometimes, 
when I heard the church bells ring, I’d think 
of father going alone to our old church, and 


9 o 


Amid the Shadows. 


my heart would most break, I wanted so to 
go back to the happy life I used to lead. 
But I didn’t do any better until after Alice 
died." 

The poor woman’s voice failed, and tne 
mention of the name seemed to recall memo- 
ries that were more than her heart could 
bear. 

Perceiving her agitation, Gertrude said 
kindly : 

“ Alice ? was she your little daughter ? I 
thought Charlie was your only child." 

“ He is now, miss, but we had a little girl 
younger than he. Oh ! but she was an 
angel, miss. It’s no wonder God took her 
from such a mother as I was. May I tell 
you about her ? But may be I am keeping 
you too long.” 

“ No, no, Mrs. Ellis, I would like to hear 
it. I am in no hurry." 

“ Alice was a little angel, miss, if ever 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 91 

there was one in this world. She never did 
anything wrong, and used to ask me such 
queer questions. It’s about two years ago 
now, that somebody asked Charlie to go to 
Sunday-school. He asked me, and I said, I 
didn’t care. Indeed I was rather glad, but I 
was careful enough not to let Mark know. 
He came home, and talked so much about it 
to Alice and me, that she wanted to go with 
him. I thought she was too little, but he 
said there was an infant class there for the 
little ones. Well, miss, I fixed her up, and 
sent her, just to please her ; and if you had 
seen how happy she was when she came 
home ! The teacher had talked to them 
about heaven, and she followed me around 
the house, telling me what she said, and 
asking me all sorts of questions about it. 
The second Sunday she came home, and said, 

* Mamma, teacher asked us to-day whether 
we prayed, and I had to say I didn’t. Why, 


92 


Amid the Shadows . 


mamma, how the children looked at me ! I 
was real ashamed. Why didn’t you teach 
me, mamma ? Teacher says that Jesus, who 
died for us, is up in heaven, and He can 
hear little children when they talk to Him. 
Mayn’t I pray, mamma ?’ 

“ After that, you may be sure, I taught 
them both, * Now I lay me,’ and they said it 
every night ; but, besides that, Alice always 
made a prayer for herself, and oh, miss, it 
used to make me cry sometimes to hear her 
pray for her father and me. 

“ She went to Sunday-school three months, 
and I never said anything to Mark, but he 
must have heard her talking about it some- 
times, although he was always away in the 
evenings and on Sundays. 

“Then he hurt his leg, and had to stay at 
home. It made him dreadful cross, and I 
dreaded night coming, for I knew that Alice 
would pray for him, and he would be sure to 


Marrying Him to Reform Him . 93 

hear her, for we only had two rooms. Sure 
enough, she prayed that night longer than 
ever, that her dear papa might get well, and 
that he would love Jesus, so that he might 
go to heaven. 

“ I heard Mark moving around the room, 
and I knew he was mad. As soon as I went 
back to him, he said : 

“ 4 Mary, how dare you teach that child 
such nonsense ?’ 

“ * I didn’t teach her,’ said I ; * she says that 
herself.’ 

“ * You don’t think I’m a fool, do you ? 
How could she get hold of such silly notions, 
if you hadn’t taught her ? Now I just tell 
you, you must put a stop to it.’ 

“ The next day he was crosser than ever. 
He seemed mad with every one, but particu- 
larly with Alice. He made her run and wait 
on him all day, but she did everything cheer- 
fully, and never fretted a bit. 


94 


Amid the Shadows . 


“ In the afternoon he told her to take his 
bottle to a neighboring tavern, and have it 
filled. She didn’t want to go, I knew, and 
Mark knew it too ; that was the reason he 
sent her. I was afraid she would refuse, and 
he might strike her, so I motioned her to go. 
She had to cross an open lot, and there were 
some boys on it building a bon-fire ; and oh ! 
miss, just as she passed, a boy threw a piece 
of burning wood at another one, and it 
touched her thin calico dress, and it blazed 
right up. 

“When they brought my little darling to 
me, I thought she was dead. She wasn’t, 
though, but oh, so burnt ! We did all we 
could for her, and she never fretted a bit, 
but she only lived three days. She knew 
she was going to die from the first, and we 
• had to send for her Sunday-school teacher 
to come and tell her about Jesus and heaven. 
Mark was real kind to her, and she talked 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 95 

to him so sweetly, but it never seemed to do 
any good ; but oh, miss, it saved me. 

‘‘You see, it was the last day, and I was 
sitting alone with her. She turned to me 
and said, ‘Mamma, do you love Jesus?’ I 
didn’t know what to say. I knew that it 
would be wicked to say ‘yes,’ and it would 
break her heart if I said ‘ no ;’ so to satisfy 
her, I said, ‘ I guess so.’ ‘ But mamma,’ said 
she, ‘ my teacher says ‘ guess so ’ wont do. 
Mamma, don’t you love my dear Jesus ? If 
He asks me when I see Him, what shall I 
say ?’ Oh, miss, how could I answer her ? 
I just burst out crying, and said, ‘ Tell Him I 
will love Him.’ How happy she was then ! 
She lay quiet, and, by-and-by, her teacher 
came in, but did not speak to her, for we 
thought she was asleep. Her father sat in 
the corner of the room looking at her. 

“ All at once, she opened her eyes, and, 
seeing her teacher, said, ‘ Dear teacher, I 


9 6 


Amid the Shadows. 


am so glad you are here. I am going soon 
to Jesus. Wont you all say, “ Our Father 
who art in Heaven,” with me ?’ Her teacher 
began to say it with her, but she wasn’t 
satisfied ; she stopped, and said, ‘ I want 
mamma and Charlie to say it, and papa, 
you, too — please do, papa, and then I’ll 
know He is your Father.’ To please her, 
even Mark joined in ; and as we were saying 
it, her voice grew faint, and when we said 
‘ Amen,’ she was silent. She didn’t speak 
again for some time ; she just lay still, look- 
ing so happy. Then she pointed up, and 
called out, ‘ my Jesus,’ and she was gone. 

“ Oh, Miss Arnold, I can’t forget it. 
Since then, I have asked Jesus to forgive 
all my past life, and I know that He has. 
Now, I go to Him with all my troubles, and 
He helps me bear them ; but this last has 
come so sudden, miss, that I’m scarcely able 
to think.” 


Marrying Him to Reform Him. 97 

“Then, Mrs. Ellis, let us kneel together, 
and ask Him for strength.” And Gertrude, 
kneeling there with the mother and son, 
prayed that this trial might be sanctified to 
all, and that the erring one who had, 
through his sin, brought all this trouble 
upon them, might, through it, be led to re- 
pentance. 

Gertrude then bade good-bye to Mrs. 
Ellis, leaving her a happier woman than she 
had found her. Her own heart felt light, 
too, for she read in all that had happened, 
as she looked upward, that her Heavenly 
Father had thus signified to her, His appro- 
bation of her decision. 



7 



V. 

ONE LESS IN THE SHADOW. 

“ Of such is the kingdom of Heaven .” — Mark x. 14. 

ELLIE RAY passed a restless 
night beside the cradle of the sick 
baby. Again and again was she 
aroused to care for it, and to soothe its 
sufferings. Again and again she listened to 
the clock in the church tower, and as eleven 
o’clock struck, and then midnight, a feeling 
of utter loneliness stole over the poor child. 

Where could her father be ? It was not 
an unusual thing for her mother to come 
home at two or three in the morning : indeed 
it was doubtful sometimes whether she would 



One Less in the Shadow . 99 

have come even then, had not her father 
gone to the drinking dens that she frequented 
and brought her home by main force. No, 
she need not look for her mother yet, but her 
father never stayed in this way. She was 
not blind to the fact that he too was indulg- 
ing in that which was blighting the happiness 
of their whole lives, but he still managed to 
keep up a show of respectability, and was 
never out after eleven o’clock. 

Walking up and down the room quieting 
the little sufferer, she heard the clock strike 
one ; and soon after, the sound, of some one 
approaching the house, with unsteady, stum- 
bling footsteps, singing, with a loud, shrill 
voice, a coarse song, warned her that her 
mother was coming home. 

Oh “ mother ! mother !” the sweetest word 
of love, save one, that ever fell on woman’s 
ear. Oh, mother-love — the tenderest tie, 
save one, that binds two hearts together — 


IOO 


Amid the Shadows . 


so tender that our Saviour, on the cross, 
recognized it even there. God pity the 
children whose mothers have drowned in the 
accursed cup the motherhood implanted in 
their hearts by their Creator. God pity the 
little ones, who, instead of clustering around 
the mother’s knee, listening to the words of 
love that fall from her lips, learning from her 
to lisp in prayer the name of Jesus, shrink 
away in terror at her approach, dread her 
coming, and feel that her presence makes 
their home a place to be shunned — if indeed 
such a place deserves the loved name of 
“ home.” 

Nellie listened, terrified as her mother’s 
footsteps drew near. Usually her father 
was there to exercise some control over her, 
but not to-night. The door was flung wide 
open, and in reeled the Nellie Ray of to-day. 

Would her native hills have recognized 
in this bloated, red-faced woman, the rosy 


One Less in the Shadow . 


IOI 


Nellie Gordon who had trudged so joyously 
over their rocky paths in her youthful days, 
tending her fathers cows, sometimes in glad- 
some mood wreathing her favorite’s neck 
with daisy chains ! 

Would they have known her as the shy 
maiden, who, under shelter of their over- 
hanging cliffs, listened blushingly to the 
young carpenter’s tale of love, and who, one 
day, laid her hand in his, and let him lead 
her away from their guardianship to the hum 
and bustle of the busy town ? 

Nellie involuntarily clasped the baby 
more closely, and shrank away as her mother 
entered. 

“ What are you carrying that cross little 
imp up and down the room for? Put it 
down, and go to bed,” said Mrs. Ray, 
harshly, perceiving what Nellie was doing. 

“ But, mother, she’s so sick.” 

“Sick! she’s no more sick than I am. 


102 


Amid the Shadows. 


Put her down, I say, and let her go to sleep.” 

Fortunately for the sick baby, its mother 
was soon unconscious of what was happen- 
ing around her, having thrown herself, just 
as she was, upon the bed in the next room, 
leaving Nellie to continue her long and 
lonely watch. Anxiety for her father dis- 
turbed her almost as much as the fretting 
baby did. Where could he be? Hour 
after hour passed, until after, as it seemed, a 
very year of nights, daylight began to break 
over the earth. Then, weary and anxious, 
she fell into a sound sleep while sitting on 
the floor, with her head resting on the side 
of the cradle. 

She was awakened by a loud knocking at 
the door. She sprang up at once, and 
opening it, found a policeman standing there. 

“ Does John Ray live here ?” he asked, 
abruptly. 

Nellie could scarcely answer. Dread of — 


One Less in the Shadow. 1 03 

she knew not what, seemed to deprive her 
of all power of speech. 

The policeman, understanding the cause 
of her silence, repeated his question more 
kindly. 

“Yes, that’s father. What of him?” 
gasped Nellie, trembling so violently that 
she was obliged to lean against the door- 
frame for support. 

“ Is he at home ?” 

“No, he has been away all night. Please, 
sir, tell me what is the matter ?” answered 
Nellie, finding this suspense unbearable. 

“ Don’t be frightened, little one,” said the 
kind-hearted man. “ There was a man hurt 
last night, in a quarrel, and we couldn’t find 
out his name. Some one said that he 
thought his name was John Ray, and that 
he lived here. Is your mother at home ? 
Can she come with me to see if it is he ?” 

“ Mother can’t come. She’s — sick,” stam- 


104 Amid the Shadows. 

mered Nellie. “ I’ll go with you ; but please, 
sir, tell me, is he killed ?” and Nellie’s pale 
face grew paler still. 

“ No, no, poor child, not killed, but badly 
hurt. I doubt whether he will know you — 
but, child, you can’t walk so far. ” 

“ Yes, sir, indeed I can. I want to see 
him so much.” 

“ Very well, then, come along, for I’m in a 
hurry.” 

“ Just please wait, sir, until I wake mother 
to take care of baby,” said Nellie, forgetting 
the excuse of sickness that she had just made 
as a reason for her mother’s not being able to 
go to the hospital ; and, in alarm about her 
father, seeming to forget that the baby would 
be taken care of much better were she to 
awaken Luke or Jennie. How bitterly she 
reproached herself afterward for her thought- 
lessness ! 

The kind policeman seemed to forget that 


One Less in the Shadow. 105 

he was in a hurry, when he heard the efforts 
which Nellie made, for a long time fruitlessly, 
to arouse her mother from her drunken sleep, 
and guessed the truth from the incoherent 
mutterings, and maudlin sobbings, when she 
at last succeeded in conveying to her mind a 
slight idea of what had happened. 

With many misgivings, Nellie left her little 
sister in her mother’s care ; but anxiety for 
her father was just now uppermost, and the 
baby was sleeping so quietly after its night 
of restlessness, that perhaps she would sleep 
until her return. 

But her father — her dear father; all her 
thoughts were of him now. How clearly 
she could remember every kind word he had 
ever spoken. 

She could plainly recall the time when he 
had come to the hospital to see her, and he 
was there now. Perhaps he was dying ; and 
as the bare idea crossed her mind, she quick- 


io6 


Amid the Shadows. 


ened her footsteps, until the policeman, who 
had moderated his walk to accommodate the 
poor deformed girl, looked at her in aston- 
ishment. 

“ Don’t run so, poor child !” said he, kindly. 
We have a long way to go yet, and you’ll be 
tired out.” 

“Oh! no, sir,” replied Nellie, almost 
breathlessly, “ indeed I want to see him 
so.” 

“ Child, have you had any breakfast ?” 
said he, as a remembrance of the scene he 
had just witnessed rose before him, “No, I 
know you haven’t,” he continued, as she hes- 
itated. 

“Now, look here; we have to pass my 
home, and you just come along with me, and 
wife will give you something to eat. No, 
you needn’t say you haven’t time. Your 
father, if it is he, is in first-rate hands, and 
he won’t be any worse if you wait half an 


One Less in the Shadow. 107 

hour. At any rate, it is almost too early to 
go to the hospital yet.” 

Without waiting for her consent, he led 
the hungry child into a neat, comfortable 
little dwelling, and calling his wife aside, 
explained the circumstances to her, and at 
once enlisted her sympathies in behalf of the 
little stranger. 

“ Poor dear,” said she, as she bustled 
about, collecting the remnants of their early 
breakfast, “you haven’t had a mouthful to- % 
day — no, and I warrant you hadn’t much 
more yesterday. There, you needn’t tell 
me anything ; I know all about it. Now 
sit down, and eat until you have had 
enough.” 

It had been many days since Nellie had 
had enough to eat, and she did justice to 
good Mrs. Seymour’s hospitality ; feeling, 
after the meal was over, that, although she 
had begrudged the time she had spent, 


io8 


Amid the Shadows. 


she was now much better prepared for her 
long walk. 

With many thanks to her kind benefac- 
tress, she started again with the policeman 
for the hospital. Arrived there, her heart 
beat fast, as they were ushered into a long 
ward, lined on both sides with small cots, 
occupied by the sick. 

Mr. Seymour led her nearly the whole 
length of the room, then paused before a 
cot where lay some one, so disfigured by the 
bandages about his head and face, that she 
began to doubt that it was her father. Ap- 
proaching, however, closer, she leaned over 
him, and easily recognized, despite the 
changes which had taken place there, the 
dearly loved features. 

The intense pallor of his face alarmed her. 
She imagined that he was dead ; and, laying 
her head on the pillow beside him, the tears 
which she had thus far restrained, could be 


One Less in the Shadow . 109 

kept back no longer, and her sobbings be- 
came uncontrollable. 

“ Come, come,” said Mr. Seymour, “ this 
will never do. I thought you were going 
to behave. Don’t you know you might 
disturb your father ?” 

“Why, sir,” said Nellie, looking up 
through her tears, “ isn’t he dead ?” 

“Dead! no, not a bit of it. The nurse 
tells me that he isn’t hurt as badly as they 
at first thought, and very likely he may 
return to consciousness very soon. But if 
you cry that way, you may hurt him.” 

No more was needed to dry the tears, and 
Nellie quietly seated herself beside her 
father, hoping that he might recognize her. 

“Now, little one, I must go, but you can 
stay another hour, if you wish. You re- 
member our house, don’t you ? Well, when- 
ever you are in trouble, just come there, and 
you’ll find friends and the policeman left 


I IO 


Amid the Shadows. 


the ward, going out again to meet the rough- 
ness of the world ; but who will deny that he 
went away feeling more kindly toward all 
his fellow-men; and, in the “land beyond 
the blue,” shall not the promise be fulfilled 
to him : “ Whosoever shall give to drink 

unto one of these little ones, a cup of cold 
water only, shall in no wise lose his reward.” 

Nellie scarcely moved her eyes from her 
father’s face, so anxious was she to catch the 
first gleam of returning consciousness, and 
be recognized by him. 

The nurse spoke kindly and encouragingly 
to her, and then left her to watch alone. 
After she had sat thus for about half an 
hour, she saw her father move ; and putting 
out his hand, he whispered, “ Nellie.” 

“ I’m here, father, right beside you and 
the little girl took his hand in hers, and 
softly kissed it. 

He opened his eyes, then, and said : 


One Less in the Shadow. 


1 1 1 


“ Oh, little Nellie, it’s you, is it ? I was 
dreaming of your mother. But, where am 
I ?” as his glance rested on the beds around 
him, “ and what is the matter?” And in- 
voluntarily he raised his hand to his head. 

“You are hurt, father dear,” said Nellie, 
gently. 

“ Oh, yes, I remember. I wanted to 
come home to you, but he wouldn’t let me. 
Then we had liquor and quarrelled, and he 
knocked me down.” 

The nurse approached, having heard talk- 
ing, and told him that he must be perfectly 
quiet. Nellie might sit there beside him if 
she would not talk to him. The sick man 
feeling tired from the exertion that he had 
already made, after taking some nourish- 
ment, was well pleased to rest his aching 
head, and, as Nellie gently stroked his fore- 
head, soon fell into a quiet, refreshing sleep. 

The nurse then told Nellie that she had 


I 12 


Amid the Shadows. 


better leave him, promising her that there 
was little doubt but that, if she would come 
again in a day or two, he would be able to 
talk as much as she wished. 

Leaving the hospital, and once more on 
her way home, she could not but wonder how 
she would find all there. She began then 
to ask herself why she had not awakened 
Luke or Jennie, instead of leaving the baby 
with her mother. 

Walking as fast as she could, it still took a 
long while for her to go over that long 
distance again. Then, too, every step 
caused her pain. She had scarcely thought 
of this when hurrying to the hospital, but 
now it seemed more severe than ever, and, 
at times, she felt as if she were making no 
progress at all. 

She had been, therefore, absent from home 
several hours, when, just as she turned into 
the street that led to theirs, she met Jennie, 


One Less in the Shadow. 


1 13 

running, almost breathless, to meet her. 

“ Oh, Nellie, hurry !” was all the child 
could say. 

Nellie had thought that she was too tired 
to walk fast, but those words, together with 
Jennie’s pulling her dress as if to help her, 
quickened her pace almost to a run. 

She asked, “ Jennie, can’t you tell me what 
is the matter?” But receiving for reply 
nothing but some confused words about 
“ mother,” and “ baby,” and “ Luke,” she 
forbore questioning her little sister further. 

She had scarcely strength to open the door 
when she reached home, but stumbled up 
the step", and almost fell into the room. 

The scene which presented itself sickened 
her. Luke sat in the rocking-chair with the 
baby lying white and apparently lifeless in 
his arms. 

Her mother lay fast asleep on the old 
lounge under the window, her arms hanging 
8 


Amid the Shadows . 


1 14 

heavily at her side. This position, together 
with Luke’s account of how, on waking and 
coming into the room, he had found his 
mother asleep and the baby lying on the 
floor beside the lounge, as he thought, dead, 
told the whole story. 

Evidently she had lain down with the 
child in her arms, and, falling into this 
drunken stupor, had allowed it to roll on to 
the floor. A dark mark on the temple 
showed too plainly that, in falling, it had 
struck the rocker of the cradle. 

“ Give her to me, Luke. Oh, the little 
darling — sister’s little pet, can’t she look at 
me ? Run, Luke, around the corner to Mrs. 
Brady’s ; ask her to come here, won’t you ?” 

“ Ask her to come here ! Why, Nellie, do 
you want her to — She’ll see her .” 

“ That’s a fact, Luke ; but what can we do ? 
I am afraid she’ll die.” 

“ I’ll tell you what, Nellie ; I’ll pull the 


One Less in the Shadow. 


”5 

lounge into the other room and shut the 
door and, even while speaking, he com 
menced to drag the lounge, with its misera- 
ble occupant, out of sight of any one who 
might enter. 

“ Now, Jennie,” said he, “ you sit near the 
door, if Mrs. Brady comes, and tell her that 
mother is sick in there.” 

Mrs. Brady, a rosy-faced Irishwoman, was 
busily clearing off the breakfast table, when 
the door was pushed suddenly open, and a 
boys frightened face appeared. 

“ Mercy, boy,” she exclaimed, “ how you 
scared me ! Who are you, and what do you 
want ?” 

“ Please, Mrs. Brady, won’t you come to 
our house ? Baby’s hurt.” 

“ To your house !” Why, I don’t know who 
you are, nor where you live;” but, even as she 
spoke, the kind-hearted woman wiped the 
water from her hands, and taking off her 


Amid the Shadows. 


1 1 6 

apron, and smoothing her hair before a glass 
over the table, had her bonnet and shawl all 
ready, before Luke had time to answer : 

“ I’m Luke Ray. We live around on 
Grove Street.” 

“ Are you the son of John Ray, that works 
where Joe, my husband, does?” 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve heard father say that 
Joe Brady worked in the shop with him.” 

By this time the bustling little woman had 
untied a fat, rosy-cheeked baby from his high 
chair by the window, where he was playing 
contentedly with a couple of clothes-pins, 
and, leaving him in charge of a neighbor, had 
locked the door, and was half way down the 
path, which led between rows of bright 
autumn flowers, to the front gate. 

“ What is the matter with the baby, and 
what is your mother doing for it ?” asked she, 
all in one breath. 

“ Baby tumbled, and hit her head. Nellie’s 


One Less in the Shadow. 


ii 7 

holding her, but we don’t know what to do 
for her. “ Mother’s sick,” added he, in a 
low voice, glad to prepare their kind neighbor 
for the closed door. 

The tears started to Mrs. Brady’s eyes, as 
Luke opened the door of his home. The 
neglected front-yard prepared her for a care- 
less room, but it did not prepare her for 
what met her eyes as she entered. 

In the centre of the room sat poor deformed 
Nellie, the baby lying across her lap, Jennie 
kneeling beside her, vainly trying to warm, 
in her own, the little hands that were fast 
growing cold, while Nellie wrapped in her 
old apron the little purpling feet. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Brady, I am so glad you came,” 
sobbed Nellie ; “ I thought baby was getting 
better ; she opened her eyes, and looked at 
me, and put out her little hands, but now she 
is all still again, and I can’t get her warm.” 

“ Let me have her now,” said Mrs. Brady, 


1 1 8 Amid the Shadows. 

seeing at once that the children were uncon- 
sciously trying to warm into life again the 
soulless clay. 

When she had removed her from Nellie’s 
arms, she kindly said : 

“ Poor child, you can’t get her warm. 
Don’t you know that baby’s dead ?” 

The poor children’s sobs showed what a 
tender place the poor frail little creature had 
in their hearts. 

Mrs. Brady asked again and again where 
she should lay the little body, but received 
no answer from them. She was carrying it 
then into the next room, when Jennie sprang 
up from the floor, where she had flung herself 
in her grief, and returned to her post at the 
chamber-door. 

Mrs. Brady was on the point of entering, 
but the little girl, placing her hand on the 
latch, said hurriedly, 

“ Please, ma’am, mother’s sick in there.” 


One Less in the Shadow. 


”9 

“ Sick ! I thought your brother said 
something about it, but then I guessed I 
didn’t understand him rightly. But what if 
she is sick ? 1 want to go in.” 

Pushing past the child, she opened the 
door, and almost dropped the dead baby from 
her arms, so shocked was she at the sight 
that met her eyes. 

In the centre of the untidy room — untidy 
because Jennie, who generally did her best 
to keep it in as good order as possible, had 
been awakened by Luke’s cry upon finding 
the baby — stood the lounge, just as it had 
been dragged in by Luke, and on it lay the 
still stupid form of the baby’s mother, or 
rather, she but half lay on it, for her head 
had slipped off until her disordered hair, 
hanging over her face, touched the floor. 

She had felt sorry when she saw the grief 
of the children for the death of their little 
sister, but now, as she straightened the little 


120 


Amid the Shadows. 


form on the hastily arranged bed, and closed 
the white eyelids, a feeling of most intense 
thankfulness arose in her heart. 

“ Better, far better asleep in the quiet 
grave, than rest on the bosom of such a 
mother — better close the eyes forever, than 
open them to look up into such a mothers 
face. Happy, thrice happy this little one, 
sleeping sweetly in the arms of Jesus. ” 

Leaving the little form which should 
never know again a mothers neglect, she 
returned to the children, closing the door 
upon the two most striking representations 
of vice and purity — a drunken woman, and a 
dead baby. 

She found Luke and Jennie clinging 
close to Nellie, who still sat where she had 
left her. All were looking at the door 
through which she entered, grieving, poor 
children, that the secret, which they had been 
guarding so jealously, was a secret no longer. 


One Less in the Shadow. 


1 2 1 


Mrs. Brady took a more careful survey 
of the room than she had had time for, upon 
first entering, and noticing the fireless stove, 
she spoke cheerfully to Luke. 

“Now, my boy, find some wood, and you 
and I will get breakfast for these little girls.” 

“ Please, Mrs. Brady/' said Nellie, ashamed 
to have it known that there was nothing in 
the house to eat but the two pieces of bread 
which she had saved for her father and 
mother the night before, “ I've had my 
breakfast, and I’ll get some for Luke and 
Jennie.” 

“ Nonsense, child ; can’t I see you are 
most tired out ? I can guess where you’ve 
been. Joe heard something this morning 
about your father having been taken to the 
hospital. I expect you have run yourself 
most to death to get there. Yes, I see I 
am right; so now you just sit still and rest.” 

Without a question, she opened the closet 


122 


Amid the Shadows. 


door, and suppressing an exclamation of 
surprise, put on again her bonnet and 
shawl, and, with instructions to Luke to 
have a good fire ready for her, she left the 
house. 

In a few minutes she returned, carrying 
on her arm a large, well-filled basket, from 
which the children were soon supplied with 
a plentiful breakfast. 

“ Now, children,” said she, after she had 
seen that they were satisfied, you tidy up 
the room, as well as you can, and wash the 
dishes. Joe and I’ll see all about baby.” 

“About baby” — yes, they knew what 
that meant. They had almost forgotten 
that she must be taken away from them ; 
and, at the thought, their grief burst forth 
afresh. 

A movement in the next room attracted 
Nellie’s attention, soon after Mrs. Brady had 
left them ; and opening the door, she saw 


One Less in the Shadow. 


123 


that her mother had awakened, and was 
sitting up, her head leaning on her hands, 
over which hung her uncombed hair, while 
her elbows rested upon her knees. 

“ Mother,” said she, placing her hand upon 
her shoulder, “ mother, do you remember 
about baby ?” 

With a stupid stare the woman raised her 
eyes to her daughters face, and muttered, 
“Baby? yes, I know about baby. She’s 
cross — you’ve spoiled her. I’ll manage her 
now. Give her to me.” 

“ But, mother,” persisted Nellie, kneeling 
down beside her, and smoothing the tangled 
locks from her face, “ our baby’s dead.” 

“ Nonsense, girl, how you talk ! Don’t I 
know ? Ain’t I her mother ? I tell you she’s 
cross.” 

“Mother, come look at her and half 
dragging the poor besotted creature, the 
child led her to the bed, and lifted the soiled 


124 Amid the Shadows . 

sheet which Mrs. Brady had been obliged to 
spread over the little body. 

“ There, didn’t I tell you that you’ve been 
spoiling her ? You carried her all the time, 
and when I take her, see how she sleeps. I 
told you I’d make her do it.” 

“Touch her, mother;” and Nellie took the 
trembling hand, and laid it against the little 
white one, resting so peacefully on the quiet 
breast. “ See, mother, she’s cold. Feel her 
cheeks, too ; she isn’t asleep, she’s dead.” 

“Dead! did you say? My baby dead ?” 
and the poor creature,. into whose beclouded 
mind some idea of the truth had slowly crept, 
fell on the little form, and in drunken sob- 
bings bewailed the loss of her little one, as 
though she had been to it a real mother. 

Nellie had to call Luke to help to lift her 
from the bed, and lead her from the room. 
Seating her upon the lounge, which had 
been returned to its place, the children kind- 


One Less in the Shadow. 


125 


ly brought her breakfast, which she received 
without a question as to where they had got 
it ; then, while she ate it, they returned to 
look at the little face they had loved so well. 

They stood around the bed, until hearing 
knocking, they knew that some one had 
come to make preparations for taking away 
their little one. At the first knock, Luke, 
with the words, “ Nellie, they mustn’t see 
her,” sprang into the next room, to hide, if 
he could, the trouble of their life; but his 
anxiety was needless — the room was empty. 
Where could she have gone ? 

Later in the day, when Nellie asked him 
to take the few pennies he had secreted the 
night before, to buy a little piece of black 
ribbon to tie on the knob of their door, the 
empty cup answered his question. 



VI. 

WILD CLEMATIS. 

“ Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters .” — Isaiah xxxii. 20. 

PON reaching home, after her visit 
to Mrs. Ellis, Gertrude Arnold, 
looking over the police report in 
the morning paper, read that, in a drunken 
quarrel, Mark Ellis had struck John Ray, 
who, falling heavily upon the side-walk, had 
hit his head with such force against the 
curb-stpne, that doubts were entertained of 
his recovery. 

Ellis had been committed to prison, to ' 
await the result of Ray’s injuries. 

“ John Ray !” The name recalled that of 



Wild Clematis . 


127 


the new scholar in whom she had taken such 
particular interest. She must certainly 
make inquiry, and find out where he lived. 
It would be impossible, however, to do it the 
next morning ; she had an engagement for 
that time, which was one of the pleasant 
duties of the week. 

Early the next day she stood, with a num- 
ber of other young ladies, around a long 
table in the public hall of the town, arrang- 
ing, in small boquets, the baskets of flowers 
which were brought from all parts of the 
surrounding country, and were emptied 
before them. 

What a mass of sweets ! As the flowers 
of early autumn were in the greatest profu- 
sion, the eye became tired of their bright 
rich colors. 

Again and again the door was opened, and 
one after another brought offerings. 

An old woman came hobbling in, leaning 


128 


Amid the Shadows . 


on her cane, holding, in her withered hand 
a bunch of gay marigolds. 

“You see, ladies,” said she, trying her 
best to courtesy, “ I hadn’t nothing but these, 
but I thought somebody’d like them. Now 
there was my Jim ; he thought there weren’t 
no flowers like marigolds. I planted them 
just for him, but he’s off to sea ; and says I to 
myself this morning, maybe some poor sick 
folks might like them, as much as Jim does, 
so you’re welcome to them all.” 

A timid little girl crept in at the door with 
her donation, one red rose. She would have 
laid it down without a word, but, being ques- 
tioned, she found courage to say that she 
wanted to bring something, but hadn’t any 
flowers in their yard. When mother died, 
father planted a rose-bush on her grave, and 
yesterday she had found this bud on it, and 
he had given her permission to pick it for 
the sick people. 


Wild Clematis . 


1 29 

After a while a bustling, good-natured 
market-woman came in, and, opening her 
basket, displayed a collection of showy 
flowers, conspicuous among which was the 
feathery wild clematis. 

“ Daughter Jennie said as how these would 
make a big show,” said she, kindly, “ even 
though they ain’t very choice. You’re wel- 
come to them, and thank you for doing good 
with them.” 

Thus their collection increased ; but after a 
while, busy fingers had arranged them all, 
and the ladies were ready to start on their 
cheering mission. 

Gertrude Arnold, with her basket, was 
neither an unlooked for, nor an unwelcome 
visitor, at the hospital which Nellie Ray had 
visited the preceding day. As the hour for 
her arrival approached, many a pale face 
was turned expectantly toward the door, 
and many eyes were lit up with transient 
9 


130 Amid the Shadows. 

happiness when she entered the ward of the 
hospital. 

Passing from cot to cot, she presented her 
flowers, with kind words of sympathy, which 
were as welcome as her gifts ; and tears of 
happiness, or, it may have been, sometimes, 
of newly awakened memories, fell on many 
of the dearly prized bouquets that she dis- 
tributed with an impartial hand. 

“That, miss,” said an attendant, pointing 
to a cot at the end of the row, “ is a new 
patient. He was brought in yesterday morn- 
ing early. His head was so badly hurt in a 
drunken fight, that he was unconscious at 
first, but yesterday his consciousness returned, 
and to-day he is getting along first rate. 

“Yes, I guess he would like some of your 
flowers. He has been watching for his little 
girl to-day. She was here yesterday, but he 
was too weak to talk much to her.” 

With a pleasant smile, Gertrude ap- 


Wild Clematis . 


131 

proached the bed, and asked the sick man 
whether he would like some flowers. 

“ Yes, indeed, miss,” said he,“ I should so 
and then, as he held in his hand the little 
bouquet that she presented to him, he con- 
tinued, “ I used to have beautiful flowers in 
my front yard, miss.” 

“ And not now ?” 

“ Not now, miss ; there is nothing but 
mud there now.” 

Remembering the cause of his accident, 
Gertrude concluded that the sight of the 
flowers had awakened some remorse for the 
change that his conduct had made in his 
home ; so, setting them down, she sought to 
win his confidence. 

The cover of her basket fell off, revealing 
the snowy clematis, which she had thought 
to distribute among the children. 

The sick man caught sight of it, and 
reaching out his hand, said : 


1 3 2 


Amid the Shadows. 


“ Oh, miss, would you mind giving me a 
piece of that ?” , 

“ Of which ?” the clematis ? Certainly 
not. I was going to hand it to the children, 
but you are entirely welcome to all that you 
want.” 

“ Just a spray or two, miss and then, as 
the tears filled his eyes, he held the flowers 
close to his lips. “You see, miss,” said he, 
apologetically, “ it has been so many years 
since I saw these flowers. It was way up 
among the hills, and Nellie had them in her 
hair, the first time I saw her. Excuse me 
if I cry. I can’t help it. It is so different 
now.” 

“ But it is going to be all right again, 
when you get well, isn’t it ?” 

“ I don’t know, indeed, miss. I am afraid 
it will never be any better.” 

“ Oh, yes, I think it will, Mr. . I 

forgot to ask your name.” 


Wild Clematis. 


133 


“ Ray ; my name is John Ray.” 

“ Is it, indeed ? and have you a son, 
Luke ?” 

“Yes, miss, indeed I have, and a fine boy 
he is.” 

‘ ‘ Then, Mr. Ray, you and I must surety 
be friends, for he is in my Sunday-school 
class.” 

“ Are you the Miss Arnold that he talks 
about so much ? He will be so glad to know 
that I saw you.” 

“ I have been very anxious to call to see 
you and his mother, but I have never been 
able to find out just where you live.” 

“ I guess Luke thought that you would 
not like to come to our house, miss.” 

“ Not like to come ! Indeed, I should. I 
want to know the parents of all my boys. 
Tell me the street and number, please, Mr. 
Ray,” and Gertrude took out a pencil and 
paper, “ I will call to see your wife this after- 


i34 


Amid the Shadows. 


noon. She must feel very anxious about 
you, and. I suppose, visits you as often as 
she possibly can.” 

Noticing that he hesitated, she looked up 
at him, and saw that his face was flushed, 
and wore a look of deep anxiety. 

There was evidently as much disinclina- 
tion on his part, as there had been on Luke’s, 
to reveal their dwelling-place ; so, quietly 
replacing her paper and pencil, she rose to 
go, saying as she did so : 

“ I am afraid, Mr. Ray, that I have let you 
talk too much this time. I shall see you 
again, and we shall soon become better ac- 
quainted.” 

“ There surely must be some mystery con- 
nected with the family,” Gertrude thought* 
as, after emptying her basket, she turned 
toward home. 

She determined to prove that her interest 
in them did not spring from idle curiosity. 


Wild Clematis. 


135 


Perhaps after a while she might be able to 
help them, if it were any great trouble that 
they were so anxious to conceal. 

She did not have to wait long to discover 
their carefully hidden secret. 

Starting early in the afternoon, she visited 
several of her scholars. Walking further 
than usual, she found herself, while hunting 
for some new ones, on the very outskirts of 
the town. Indeed she scarcely knew where 
she was, and stopped a barefooted girl who, 
with several companions, was hurrying past 
her, to make inquiries. 

“You’re on Grove Street, ma’am,” an- 
swered the girl hurriedly, hastening to join 
the others, who, by this time, were considera- 
bly in advance. 

“ Why are you all in such a great hurry ?” 
asked Gertrude, amused by the- evident 
annoyance expressed in the girl’s face, at 


1 3 6 


Amid the Shadows . 


being obliged even to spend time in answer- 
ing a question. 

“ We want to see the funeral — the baby’s 
dead.” 

The last words came back to Gertrude 
from quite a distance, and the girls, with 
other ragged urchins, were soon crowding 
into the yard of one of the most neglected 
looking houses in the neighborhood. 

Catching sight of a familiar face near the 
door, she passed through the yard, and 
asked, 

“ Mrs. Brady, what is the matter here ?” 

“ Oh, Miss Arnold, is it you ? I can’t tell 
you how glad I am to see you. I’ll never 
forget your kindness to me, when our baby 
died, and if anybody ever wanted a kind 
word, these poor children do.” 

“ Who are they ?” 

“ Oh, I thought you knew, miss. Luke 
went with our Jim to Sunday-school two or 


Wild Clematis . 


137 


three times, and I thought that you knew 
their baby was dead.” 

“ No, Mrs. Brady, I knew nothing about 
it.” 

“ Where is the mother ?” 

“ Look for yourself, miss and Mrs. 
Brady, in rather an unceremonious manner, 
pushed the gaping crowd from the doorway, 
making room for Gertrude to enter. 

What a picture was before her ! On a 
table in the centre of the room rested a little 
pine box, and by it stood the three children, 
loath, it seemed, to part with the little form, 
for which they had cared so constantly. 
Each one seemed to bid it good-bye, and 
then return again and again for another 
look. So great was their grief, that even 
the curious crowd of children, whom kind 
Mrs. Brady was doing her best to keep out 
of the room, did not disturb them. 

Gertrude stepped forward, and, as she 


Amid the Shadows. 


138 

drew nearer the table, she saw that the little 
cold fingers clasped a spray of wild clematis. 
Luke then must have visited the hospital 
soon after she left in the morning. 

She laid her hand gently on the boy’s 
shoulder. He started at her touch, but 
seemed to appreciate her sympathy, as she 
said : 

“ Luke, my boy, why didn’t you come and 
tell me about this ?” 

“ I couldn’t, miss ; I didn’t want you to 
come here.” 

“ Not want me to come here ! Why Luke, 
I can’t understand you.” 

“ Excuse me, miss, but I didn’t want you 
to see herd 

“ Whom ! the baby ?” 

“ No, no, miss ; I mean mother.” 

“ Where is she ?” 

The look that he gave, directed her to the 
other side of the coffin. Between it and the 


Wild Clematis. 


139 


wall, with her head resting upon the table 
that held the little box, sat a woman, whom, 
at first, Gertrude supposed to be overcome 
with grief ; but, as she looked up, conscious 
of the presence of a stranger, the bleared 
eyes, and bloated face told a different story. 
She understood now the silence of both Luke 
and his father. 

In a moment the poor creature dropped 
her head again upon the table, and was soon 
in a heavy drunken sleep beside her baby’s 
coffin. 

Mrs. Brady now came forward to say that 
the wagon which had stopped for the little 
coffin, on its way to Potters field with another 
one, was at the door, and the children must 
now say their last good-bye to baby. 

Gertrude turned quickly, exclaiming : 

“You don’t tell me, Mrs. Brady, that this 
baby is to be buried without any religious 
service at all !” 


140 Amid the Shadows . 

“ Indeed, Miss Arnold,” apologized the 
woman, “ we didn’t know what to do about 
it. Their father bein’ in the hospital, the 
children were all alone like, for she's nothin’ 
of a help. I spoke to Joe about it, but 
neither me nor Joe’s been to church for so 
long, that we felt kind of strange about ask- 
ing any minister, seem’ too that it wasn’t our 
funeral; so after the coroner gave a permit, 
we just thought we’d have to let the guar- 
dians of the poor bury it without any fuss, 
and it’s too late now.” 

“ No, it isn’t too late ; just tell the men 
they are not needed here. Now, Jim,” said 
she to a rosy-cheeked boy, whom no one 
could fail to recognize as Mrs. Brady’s son, 
‘ ‘ take this note, as quickly as you can, to 
the minister of our mission church. You 
will, most likely, find him in his study, back 
of the church. He will attend to it all.” 

The crowd of ragged lookers-on, fearing 


Wild Clematis . 


141 

that their curiosity was not then to be grati- 
fied, turned their attention to the wagon that 
had just left the door, following it, to see 
whether any other paupers’ coffins were to 
be taken in. 

Gertrude improved the moments of wait- 
ing, by talking to the children of the bright 
home to which their little sister had gone. 

With earnest prayer that her mission here 
might be one of comfort and joy, she spoke 
cheering words to them, striving to guide 
their thoughts to the shadowless land. 

She was surprised, as she did so, to find 
how totally ignorant even Nellie was, of the 
simplest gospel truths. Upon questioning 
her more closely, however, she learned that, 
until Luke went with a companion to the 
mission-school, a few weeks before, not one 
of these children had had any religious in- 
struction whatever. From this she suspected 
at once the truth ; the shadow had been 


142 


Amid the Shadows. 


resting upon them from their earliest youth, 
and their parents, whose religion, even in the 
first days of their married life, had consisted 
merely in an outward observance of God’s 
ordinances, very soon gave up their habit of 
going to church on Sunday morning, when 
the shadow began to grow heavy. 

The half hour that Gertrude spent in wait- 
ing there, opened to Nellie a new life. It 
was as if the brightness beyond the clouds 
was being revealed to her. As her kind 
friend talked to her of the joys and peace 
of heaven, she could but associate it with 
that unknown realm of light, glimpses of 
which she had thought to catch at the sunset 
hours. 

Never again would the world seem quite 
so cold and dreary to her — never again would 
she feel lonely. Had not she heard that she 
was to stay here among the shadows but a 
little while? More than that, had she not 


Wild Clematis. 


H3 

been told that even during the “little while,” 
there was a kind friend ever near her ? 

With eagerness she accepted all that Ger- 
trude told her of the love of Jesus. She had 
never dreamed of it before. Even the hum- 
ble duties of her unhappy home, would have 
about them now, a sacredness hitherto un- 
known ; for wasn’t she doing everything with 
Jesus beside her ? 

Suddenly, as Gertrude watched her face, 
radiant with new-found joy, a cloud gathered 
over it, and the young girl began to sob, as 
though some new sorrow had fallen upon her 
heart. 

At first she seemed loath to reveal the cause 
of her anxiety, but after a while, in a voice 
choked with tears, she said : 

“ Oh, Miss Arnold, it is all so lovely — 
heaven and Jesus; but can father and mother 
go too ?” 

How could Gertrude answer ? Not only 


144 


Amid the Shadows. 


Nellie, but Luke and Jennie too, gazed in 
her face, as if on her verdict hung the 
eternal doom of their parents. Should she 
tell them that there was no hope for them ? 
She could not, neither would she leave them 
with the impression that God allowed people 
to live as they chose — in the grossest sin, and 
then, at last, took them to the home where 
no sin could enter. 

She lifted her heart in prayer that a mes- 
sage might be given her for these sorrowing 
ones, and then came to her the precious 
words: “The Son of man is come to seek 
and to save that which was lost.” 

There was hope then for the most de- 
graded. “ Nellie,” said she, with fresh 
courage in her own heart, “ Jesus will save 
them, if they will only love and trust Him. 
Let us kneel and pray for them.” 

Unheard by the children, but audible at 
the throne of grace, were her prayers for 


Wild Clematis . 


145 


others of the “lost,” besides those whose 
names were upon her lips ; and her own 
heart was strengthened and encouraged to 
pray and hope for her own loved ones. 

Just as they rose from their knees, Jim 
Brady returned, saying that the minister 
would be there in a few minutes. When he 
came, Gertrude met him outside the door, 
and explained to him the circumstances. 

In accordance with her hurried note, he 
had made arrangements that the receiving 
vault in the grave-yard connected with the 
church in which Judge Arnold and his family 
had worshipped for years, should be opened 
to receive the little body, until the father 
should make different arrangements about 
its burial. 

After a short service, during the whole of 
which Mrs. Ray still lay in a heavy sleep, 
Gertrude told the children that they must 
now bid the baby good-bye. It was a tear- 
10 


146 Amid the Shadows. 

ful parting, but Nellie’s tears were not now 
so hopeless as they had been, before 
Gertrude told her of the home to which her 
little charge had gone. 

Luke closed the coffin himself. Then he 
and Jim Brady took it up between them, 
and prepared to follow the minister, who 
had promised to go with them to the grave. 

It was a sorrowful procession ; the boys 
carrying, so tenderly, the little box, followed 
by Nellie and Jennie, with Mrs. Brady. 
After them came the remainder of the rag- 
ged group whose curiosity was not yet quite 
satisfied. 

Gertrude stood at the door of the deserted 
home, and watched the mournful group, 
until a turning in the street hid it from view ; 
then she turned and looked into the room. 
Still the mother slept ; but, even as she 
looked, the poor creature, moving restlessly, 
tossed her arm across the table, just where 


Wild Clematis. 


H7 


the little coffin had lately rested. Had the 
last remaining spark of maternal instinct led 
her to throw her protecting arm around 
her little one ? Perhaps so — who knows ? 
But the table was empty. On her awaken- 
ing would the absence of the little cold 
form rouse any feeling of regret in the mo- 
ther’s heart ? 

Alas ! alas ! Gertrude need not have 
wondered thus. Had she seen her, a few 
minutes afterward, as, aroused from her 
sleep, she lifted her head from the empty 
table, and, without a thought that her baby 
had been carried from her sight forever, 
hurried away to her accustomed haunts, 
she could not have doubted that all the 
natural feelings of her heart had been 
deadened by the accursed glass. 

Gertrude had asked the children to come 
to the mission-school with Luke ; but seeing 
them hesitate, she easily divined the reason, 


1 48 


Amid the Shadows . 


and Saturday was devoted to finding, among 
her friends, clothes to render them respect- 
able. 

It was a Sunday long to be remembered 
by them ; and, ever after, no matter how 
heavily the shadow fell, there was, in their 
week, that one bright streak of sunshine. 

True to her promise, Gertrude visited Mr. 
Ray, in the hospital, as often as circumstances 
would permit ; and, winning his confidence, 
she listened as he told her, how, becoming 
discouraged, he was but adding to the gloom 
that hung so heavily over his home. 

She showed him how he was treading on 
the very brink of the fearful abyss ; and, 
praying for the guidance of the Holy Spirit, 
she sought to lead him to Him who alone 
had power to break the chains which the 
tempter had already thrown around him. 

Her prayers in his behalf were answered ; 
and, when he left the hospital at the end of 


Wild Clematis . 


149 


the week, he left it a new man in Christ 
Jesus; feeling his weakness, he depended 
upon the Strong for strength, and looked up 
for help, in the hour of temptation, to Him 
from whom help was never asked in vain. 

What joy was in that humble home on the 
fathers return ! He could thank God that 
when just about to plunge headlong down 
the precipice, His hand had caught him, 
and, snatching him from the yawning chasm, 
had planted his feet upon the Rock. 

The children now no longer carried their 
burden alone ; their father shared it with 
them ; and, morning and night, both he and 
they, kneeling together, could carry it to the 
throne of grace. 

Not only within the house was the change 
visible. Even before his father’s return from 
the hospital, Luke, at Gertrude’s suggestion, 
had made wonderful improvements in the 
front yard. New hinges and a few nails 


Amid the Shadows. 


150 

soon formed an effectual barrier against the 
depredations of the geese and pigs ; and, 
their visits ended, it was comparatively an 
easy task to convert the neglected space into 
neat flower-beds, ready for spring flowers, 
which should rival in beauty those which so 
brightened Mrs. Bradys yard. 

In the midst of this newly found light, 
shining from above, the poor wife and 
mother, persistently turning from the sun- 
shine, clung to the frightful object, whose 
shadow still rested heavily upon the hearts 
that loved and prayed for her. 



VII. 

SELF-EXILED. 

“ If mischief befall him by the way in which ye go, then shall ye 

bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.” Gen. 

xlii. 38. 

RUE to the threat made to Ger- 
trude, George Derby, from the 
hour he left her, plunged more 
deeply than ever into all sorts of vice. He 
seemed to imagine that, in some way, he 
was avenging himself for the slight he had 
received. 

Neither, as he had threatened, was he 
satisfied to sink alone. With fiendish delight, 
he gloated over the rapid downfall of young 
Harry Arnold, who, having neither the 



152 Amid the Shadows. 

strength of mind nor body, of his tempter, 
rushed headlong into excesses, at the brink 
of which, his so-called friend, paused, and 
secretly laughed at his victims weakness. 

Night after night, Gertrude watched and 
prayed until long after midnight — day after 
day she devised schemes, always, alas, in vain, 
to win back the love and confidence of her 
brother, and to render his home more 
attractive than his haunts of vice. 

One evening, a few months after our story 
opens, Harry came into the dining-room, 
where his father and sisters sat at the table, 
and, throwing himself into his chair, ate his 
supper without a word. His presence had, 
for some time, cast a gloom over their meals, 
but to-night, its influence had in it something 
peculiarly depressing. 

Again and again, Gertrude and her father 
endeavored to break the oppressive silence — 
it was all in vain ; even Mabel’s artless 


Self-exiled. 


153 


prattle became, after a while, hushed, and 
perfect silence reigned around the table. 

It was almost a relief when Harry arose, 
and went to his own room, to prepare, as 
usual, to leave the house. 

Both his father and sister looked after him 
with tender solicitude, and, putting her arm 
around her father’s neck, as they passed into 
the sitting-room, Gertrude whispered : 

“ Father, will you ask him to stay in this 
evening ? My asking is all in vain — he will 
not even listen to me.” 

“Yes, my daughter, I will,” answered her 
father, with tears in his eyes ; “ but all my 
expostulations have been, as yet, fruitless. 
Some powerful corrupting influence seems 
to be exerted over him, drawing him further, 
and further away from us, and more and 
more hopelessly into the tempter’s snare.” 

An echo of the muttered threat seemed to 
sound in Gertrude’s ear— she feared to ask 


154 


Amid the Shadows. 


herself whose influence was thus deepening 
the gloom of the shadow. 

“ Father,” said she, entreatingly, “ 1 know 
not whether it be fancy, but a terrible fore- 
boding is over me to-night. I so dread 
Harry’s leaving the house. There is a look 
in his face that I have never seen there 
before.” 

“ I know it, Gertrude. I cannot under- 
stand it. But hark ! was not that his door ? 
I will try once more.” 

So quickly did Harry descend the stairs, 
and cross the hall, that his father had barely 
time to place his hand upon the door to pre- 
vent his passing out. 

He was startled by the obstacle so suddenly 
placed in his way ; but, quickly recovering 
himself, without raising his eyes to his father’s 
face, he impatiently exclaimed : 

“ Father, will you let me pass ?” 

“ Not in that way, my son,” said the loving 


Self-exiled. 


155 


father, kindly. “ Gertrude and I want your 
company to-night/’ 

“ Nonsense, father ; you and Gert treat me 
as if I was a baby. I am quite old enough 
to take care of myself.” 

“ Harry, are not my wishes enough ? Must 
I command you to remain at home ?” 

“ Command me ! Why, father, I’m not a 
child, to be ordered in that way. You forget 
that I am my own master. I believe a 
father’s control ceases when a son is twenty- 
one.” 

“ Legally so — yes, Harry ; but a true man 
never disregards the wish or command of his 
father, be he never so old.” 

“ Well, I have an engagement this even- 
ing, and I consider myself fully able to 
control my own actions. If you wish to turn 
me out of the house, say but the word, and I 
will never darken your door again.” 

“ No, no, my son. I beg of you, do not 


Amid the Shadows. 


156 

say what one day you will be willing to give 
worlds to unsay. This is your home — a 
father’s and sister’s love is always waiting for 
you here, though now you spurn them from 
you with disdain; and Harry,” continued his 
father, solemnly, “the love of another has 
been your portion here. Think, my boy, of 
the last time your mother’s lips touched yours 
— think of the blessing she invoked upon 
you, as you knelt beside her bed — think of 
the promise which she required, and you 
gave, just as her lips were chilling in death. 
Are you keeping that promise? Are you 
to-night taking a step in the direction of 
that home, where, you told her, you would 
one day meet her? For her sake, Harry,” 
pleaded his father, judging from the paling 
face, that the memory of an idolized, and 
almost idolizing mother, had touched a chord, 
untouched by aught else, “ for her sake, 
stop before it is too late. Stay at home with 


Self-exiled . 


157 


us this evening, and so break at once from 
the evil influence that has been, in some way, 
thrown around you.” 

“ I cannot stay at home to-night, father,” 
replied Harry, in a voice somewhat softened. 
“ I have business of importance to attend to, 
but I’ll do this much ; I’ll promise to make 
no engagement for to-morrow evening.” 

“ And is it impossible to-night, Harry?” 

“Yes, father, it is. I have promised to 
attend to some business, and surely you 
would not have me break my word ? I have 
stayed over the time now. Please let me 
pass. I’ll stay to-morrow.” 

Confident that further pleading was in 
vain, Judge Arnold removed his hand from 
the door, saying, in a low voice, to his son, 
as he did so : 

“ Remember, Harry, that your mother is 
watching you.” 

He was gone, and the father, re-entering 


1 58 Amid the Shadows. 

the sitting-room, threw himself into his chair 
and buried his face in his hands. 

With a promise of some long-wished-for 
pleasure on the morrow, Gertrude coaxed 
Mabel to retire early, knowing that such 
scenes should not be witnessed by her. 

Returning as quickly as possible from her 
little sisters bedside, she stole up quietly 
behind her father, and, putting her arms 
around his neck, leaned her head upon his 
shoulder. 

Words were not needed. Each knew the 
others thoughts, and each knew to whom the 
other was looking for strength in this time 
of trial. 

Gertrude was the first to break the silence. 
Without raising her head, she said : 

“ Father, did not I hear him promise you 
to stay with us to-morrow evening ?” 

“ Yes, he did ; but I wish that I could have 
persuaded him to break his engagement this 


Self-exiled. 


159 


evening. I feel as you do ; that he does not 
seem like himself to-night ; but, Gertrude, 
the memory of your sainted mother touches 
him more than aught we can say. Let us 
pray more earnestly that the prayers she 
uttered for him, even with her last breath, 
may yet be answered.” 

Hour after hour the two watched and 
prayed for their erring one. Gertrude would 
have waited alone, as usual, but her father’s 
extreme solicitude would not let him rest 
to-night, and together they kept their pray- 
erful vigil. 

As the night grew old, both became more 
and more anxious and restless ; but, to spare 
the other possibly needless pain, each re- 
frained from clothing the nameless dread in 
words. 

Solemnly from the church tower tolled the 
hour of midnight ; and Judge Arnold, turning 
to his daughter, asked, in a husky voice : 


i6o 


Amid the Shadows . 


“ Has he ever been as late as this before, 
Gertrude ?” 

“Yes, father, quite often.” 

“ My daughter, lie down on the lounge 
and rest, if you will not let me wait alone.” 

“ I will, father, to please you, but, I beg 
of you not to send me from you. My 
anxiety will not let me rest anywhere, 
to-night.” 

Slowly the next hour dragged itself along, 
and when the clock struck one, Judge Arnold 
started to his feet, exclaiming : 

“ Gertrude, I cannot sit here. I feel con- 
fident that some evil has befallen him. I 
must seek him.” 

“ But where, father?” 

“ I know not, Gertrude ; but this is un- 
bearable. May I leave you for a time ?” 

“Yes, indeed, father; don’t think of me 
for a moment. I will wait here for you.” 

Accompanying her father to the door, 


Self-exikd. 


1 6 1 


Gertrude paused with him for a moment 
there. It was so quiet and still through the 
deserted streets. Strain their hearing as 
they would, they could detect no sound of 
the well-known footsteps. 

A heavy snow-storm had set in, and the 
sound of the feathery flakes as they were 
hurled hither and thither through the air, 
served but to make the awful stillness more 
apparent. The gas-lights in the street 
looked like bright eyes ; ever and anon 
winking, as the storm hurled the snow flakes 
in full force against them. 

Gertrude dreaded seeing her father leave 
the house, but, buttoning his coat tightly 
around him, he braved the storm, for the 
sake of his wandering boy. 

His boy? — yes, he was his “ boy ” still. 
It seemed but yesterday, that, with childish 
glee, he had played with his sled in just such 
a storm as this — he could still hear the echo 


1 1 


i 62 


Amid the Shadows . 


of his joyous ringing laugh, as he coasted 
with his merry comrades down the neighbor- 
ing hill. Oh, could he have foreseen all 
this ! Thank God, parents have not the 
power to look forward along the pathway 
which their little ones are to tread ! Me- 
thinks they would strive to pluck from them 
each thorn, and strew roses along the way 
instead. Methinks, too, that a parent’s 
heart would break with anguish, if he fore- 
saw the innocent feet straying in forbidden 
paths — the rosy lips raised confidingly to his 
for a father’s kiss, polluted by oaths and 
curses, and reddened by the deathful wine 
cup. No, no ! were it so, how fervently 
would he pray that he might lift his little 
one from its cradle-bed, and lay it to sleep 
among the daisies. 

God in His goodness and wisdom, gives 
us the “now,” and keeps, as His own secret, 
the “then,” urging the faithful Christian 


Self-exiled. 


163 


parent to leave his little ones future with 
Him ; promising, (and it is God’s promise 
though read so oft amiss,) “Train up a 
child in the way he should go, and when 
he is old, he will not depart from it.” 

He may wander far, far away from the 
beaten track, but, to the parent, clinging to 
that promise, and striving prayerfully to lead 
the little feet in the narrow way, our Saviour 
whispers, “According to your faith, be it 
unto you.” 

Silently through the deserted streets, the 
father wandered aimlessly, looking for his 
“ boy.” Once, just opposite a deep door- 
way, he fancied that he caught sight of a 
familiar figure. He stopped, and peered 
earnestly into the gloom of the recess ; then, 
with a sigh of disappointment, resumed his 
lonely walk. 

It was only a shadow, after all, he thought. 
Why did the wind, just at that moment, 


164 Amid the Shadows. 

blow with renewed force, obliterating the 
freshly made foot-prints in the newly fallen 
snow ? 

From street to street he passed, but alas, 
all in vain. Without a clue, how could he 
find his boy ? The possibility of seeing him 
safe on his return, quickened his pace as he 
turned toward home. Perhaps all their fears 
had been groundless — the storm might have 
detained him. 

As quickly as the snow, now lying deep 
upon the pavement, would allow, he retraced 
his steps. Now he reaches his own door. 
What was that shadow, cast by the nearest 
street lamp, which fell across his path just as 
he ascended the steps ? He turned quickly ; 
perhaps some evil disposed person had fol- 
lowed him — no, no, again he was mistaken — 
his fears had made him nervous, and the 
sudden flickering of the light, as a fresh flur- 
ry of snow-flakes had been dashed against 


Self -exiled. 1 65 

the glass, had, through his imagination, 
become the shadow of a living being. 

Hastily opening the door with his night- 
key, the question that arose to his lips, died 
there, as he looked in the face of his daugh- 
ter, who met him in the hall. There was up- 
on it, not a look of relief, but of expectancy, 
'which changed instantly to one of disap- 
pointment and alarm, when she became 
conscious that her father was alone. 

A silent shake of the head was all the 
answer he was able to give to her wordless 
questioning, and, when she had assisted him 
to remove his overcoat, he threw himself 
down upon the lounge in the sitting-room, 
and wept tears of bitterest agony. 

The sting, “ sharper than a serpent’s 
tooth,” had entered his inmost heart. 

Gertrude, for a time, forgot her anxiety as 
a sister, in her solicitude as a daughter. She 
had never seen her father overcome like this. 


i66 


Amid the Shadows. 


When her mother’s hand grew cold in his, 
he had wept, but his tears were not hopeless. 
He knew that his loved one was safe on the 
other side of the 'river, freed from the cares 
and sorrows of this life ; while he, tarrying a 
little longer on the hither shore, would 
soon be called to cross, and then, through 
eternity, there should be never more a par- 
ting. 

Now hope seemed, for the time, dead. 
Suspense, uncertainty, with all the imaginings 
that his overwrought senses could conjure 
up, were crushing him to the earth. 

Gertrude was alarmed at his condition, 
and yet hesitated to call assistance, lest 
others might suspect the cause of his great 
grief. 

Kneeling beside him, she drew his head 
upon her shoulder, and by endearing caresses, 
and words of encouragement and hope, that 
tended to strengthen her in the giving, even 


Self-exiled. 


167 


though they might not comfort him in 
the receiving, she sought to assuage his 
grief. 

“ Father, dear father,” she said, almost 
cheerfully, “ no doubt the storm detains him : 
perhaps he has been persuaded to remain 
with some friend through the night. You 
are tired from your long walk and want of 
rest. Lie still and try to sleep here, if you 
will not go to your room. Let us hope that 
the morning will make all things bright.” 

Tired nature, after a time, asserted its 
right, and her father slept calmly, while Ger- 
trude, leaning back in an arm-chair, forgot 
her troubles, and, when disturbed by the 
awakening of the busy city, found the early 
dawn just breaking over the world. 

At first her unusual surroundings puzzled 
her. What did it all mean ? The still-burn- 
ing gaslight, and her father sleeping, un- 
conscious of trouble, beside her, recalled it 


Amid the Shadows. 


1 68 

all — the dread, the uncertainty of the past 
night. 

Yet it could not be true that Harry had 
not come home — perhaps he had come in, 
and not noticing them, (for alas, she knew 
too well in what a condition he often entered 
the house), had passed to his own room, 
unheard. 

Acting upon that possibility, she hastened 
up-stairs. His room was empty — his bed as 
it had been arranged the day before. 

What would she not give, had she been 
able to have some good tidings in readiness 
for her father’s awakening ? But she was 
powerless : she could but spend these early 
moments of the day in prayer for her wan- 
dering brother, and for themselves, that grace 
would be granted according to their need 
this day. 

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she rose 
from beside her brother’s bed,, where she 


Self-exiled. 


169 


had been kneeling, and confronted at the 
door her father, who had come on the same 
errand as herself. 

This one night of anxiety and watching 
seemed to have added the weight of years to 
his still erect form. 

“ I thought I might find him here, Ger- 
trude,” said he, despondingly. 

“ I thought the same, father, but was dis- 
appointed.” 

“ Gertrude, can you advise me what to do ? 
I feel powerless. I know not which way to 
turn. I cannot even think calmly.” 

“ I do not know what to say, father. Just 
now, I think we can do nothing but pray and 
wait, as we have no idea in what direction 
his so-called business engagement led him 
last evening. We must, too, keep our 
trouble to ourselves, and hide our anxiety, 
lest Mabel, or the servants, should suspect 
something amiss. I think that I can give 


170 


Amid the Shadows. 


some excuse for Harry’s absence, that will 
excite no suspicion of the real truth. 

“ And now, let me order breakfast earlier 
than usual. It may be that, after you have 
had something to eat, you can think more 
calmly. You look completely exhausted.” 

Both Gertrude and her father exerted 
themselves so successfully to appear cheerful, 
that no idea of the truth was awakened in 
the minds of any of the other members of 
the household. Even Mabel’s curiosity was 
•very soon satisfied by the judicious answers 
which Gertrude gave to her child-like ques- 
tionings. 

Family worship followed the breakfast- 
hour, and then the father’s full heart almost 
choked his utterance ; but, drawing near the 
mercy-seat, he had grace given him to say, 
“ Not my will, but thine, O Father,” and thus 
casting himself unreservedly into his heav- 
enly Father’s loving arms, he felt prepared 


Self-exiled. 


1 7i 

to meet, in His strength, whatever awaited 
him during the coming hours. 

Anxious to reach his office, that he might, 
if possible, hear something there of his 
absent one, he left the house earlier than 
usual, assuring Gertrude, as she hung around 
his neck at parting, that he would not delay 
a moment to communicate any tidings which 
might reach him. 

Left to herself, Gertrude found the task 
of retaining the mask of cheerfulness doubly 
difficult ; yet with continual prayer for help, 
she went through with her household duties 
unhesitatingly. She even called Mabel at 
the usual hour, for her daily lesson, and, 
though the little girl wondered sometimes, 
that she herself had to correct a misnamed 
letter, she passed through this ordeal un- 
flinchingly. 

Just as she had closed Mabel’s primer, 
and sent her to the yard to play in the snow, 


Amid the Shadows. 


1 72 

now glistening in the sunshine, she heard 
the sound of a key in the front door. 

Scarcely waiting to touch the steps, she 
sprang down the stairs. Her heart beat 
violently, though the blood seemed to leave 
her pale lips. What was before her ? — joy 
or despair ? One look at her father’s face 
was enough. She had thought that his 
night of watching had added years of care to 
his face, but now — what did it mean ? Ah, 
that sting was entering deeper than before — 
deeper than any serpent’s tooth had ever 
dared to strike ! 

“ Father, dear father, what is it ?” she 
exclaimed, in a suppressed voice. “ Tell 
me the worst.” 

No answer, only stifled sobs, as he buried 
his face in his hands, upon the arm of the 
lounge, where he had passed his night of 
bitter grief. 

“ Father, father, speak to me ! Is he ? — 


Self-exiled ’ 


173 


Oh, father, you know what I would ask. I 
cannot speak the word.” 

“No, Gertrude, not dead! Would to 
God, I could see him lie there cold in his 
coffin, with his soul, all washed in the 
precious blood, safe in his Saviour’s arms. 
No, Gertrude, not dead, but worse, far 
worse.” 

“ Father, if he is still living, there is hope. 
I beseech you, tell me all.” 

In words, at times almost inaudible from 
suppressed tears, the father told the sad, 
heart-crushing story. 

Sitting in his office, waiting and watching 
for — he knew not what, he was disturbed by 
the entrance of a messenger from the bank, 
who, handing him a check, asked whether 
the signature was genuine. It was no 
unusual occurrence, and yet his hand seemed 
palsied, as he attempted to reach it forth for 
the proffered paper. 


174 


Amid the Shadows. 


What did it mean ? He could scarcely 
comprehend it. His eyesight must have 
been impaired by his long watching. Again 
he looked — this time the words seemed to 
burn themselves into his brain. Yes, his 
name was there — “ Robert Arnold,” but the 
characters were not his. He was just on 
the point of saying so, when, casting his 
eyes upward a line or two, he saw that it 
was drawn to the order of George Derby — 
a check for five hundred dollars, and his own 
name signed by — whom ? 

With a presence of mind that surprised 
himself, when he thought over the whole 
occurrence, he returned the check, merely 
saying, as he did so, 

“ Say to the teller, that it is to be paid.” 

With a bow the messenger withdrew, and, 
closing the door, left him alone with his 
great sorrow. 

Remembering instantly his promise to 


Self-exiled. 


175 


his daughter, with a calmness born of 
despair, he left the office, and, stopping even 
to give to his clerks some evasive explana- 
tion as to the cause of his absence, and 
necessary instructions for the day, he walked 
the long distance to his home. He had 
walked in the morning, too ; he could not 
meet the curious gaze of strangers, or, far 
worse, of friends who might remark upon 
his changed appearance. 

It was some comfort to tell it all to Ger- 
trude. It seemed a relief to his over- 
burdened heart. They could mingle their 
tears and unite their prayers. But, one 
thought above all else filled their minds — 
where was their loved one ? Loved, it 
seemed, with a tenderer love than before, 
even as the love of the shepherd for his 
wandering sheep, leads him through dangers 
from which he might shrink, were it mot 
that, as he tracks by bloody footprints, its 


Amid the Shadows . 


1 76 

painful steps over the forbidden path, his 
love waxes warmer and warmer, and will 
not let him rest until the straying one is safe 
again in his arms. 

The forged check told the whole story. 
On it they could read the tempters increas- 
ing power. Playing and losing, until ren- 
dered all but desperate, the whisper that he 
could in one way retrieve his fortune, seemed 
at first like the hissing of the serpent in his 
ear but, driven to the verge of insanity, that 
whisper, repeated, had met with a reluctant 
assent, and, with trembling fingers he had 
traced the characters on the check, that, in 
some way, was already in George Derby’s 
possession. 

He played again and lost, and he had 
rushed from that table a very madman. 

Before him, perhaps, the walls and iron- 
grating of the prison cell loomed — but oh, 
had they but known the whole truth. He 


Self-exiled. 


1 77 


passed from that room feeling that a curse 
deeper than that of Cain rested upon him — 
he had brought to disgrace that father whose 
last words to him had been those of tender- 
est love. 

Where was he now, on this cold December 
day ? How could he be reached ? how told 
that a father’s forgiveness awaited his return ? 

Would that some angel would whisper in 
his ear that the debt was all paid, and he 
could return as a loved son to his father’s 
house. 

All the efforts that Judge Arnold could 
possibly make, were made to discover the 
hiding-place of his erring boy. Neither 
time nor money was spared, and yet all was 
in vain. 

The days lengthened into weeks, and the 
weeks grew into months, and the months, 
marching along in solemn procession, brought 
again and again their gifts of springs and 

12 


178 


Amid the Shadows. 


summers, and autumns and winters, and yet 
he came not, neither was any clue to his 
movements discovered. 

Little Mabel’s five years grew to ten, and 
real study took the place of the primer, over 
which she had puzzled at her sister’s knee. 

Gertrude, her life spent in bringing to 
others the happiness denied to her, and yet, 
in that very effort, blessed herself, seemed 
scarcely older to a casual observer, at the 
end of those years, than when she took the 
stand for her Saviour that separated her, 
forever, from the one whom her heart loved, 
though her judgment disapproved. 

Never, since that fatal night, had she met 
her brother’s tempter face to face. Her 
father had sought an interview with him, but 
he had disclaimed all knowledge of Harry’s 
movements, feigning sympathy and concern 
for the family in their trial. 

Once or twice she had caught a glimpse 


Self-exiled. 


179 


of him in the street, but evidently he had 
seen her also, and had studiously avoided 
her. 

In Harry’s father the five years of his 
absence had caused the greatest change. 
Scarcely past the prime of life, he seemed to 
have leaped over intervening decades, and, 
with hair whitened, not by the snows of 
winters, but by the chilling frosts of sorrow, 
to have entered prematurely upon the declin- 
ing years of life. 

He felt now the need of a younger arm on 
which to lean ; but, with the exception of his 
noble daughter, who, as far as lay in her 
power, supplied to him the place of both wife 
and son, he stood in the world alone. 

Must those gray hairs be laid in the silent 
grave, before those loving lips can whisper 
to his wandering boy an assurance of the 
forgiveness, granted even when the sin had 
well nigh crushed his father’s heart ? 



VIII. 

IN THE OLD HOME ONCE MORE. 

“ Out of the shadow into the sun.” 

HE five years during which the 
shadow fell so heavily upon Judge 
Arnold’s household, did not pass 
without bringing marked changes to the 
other families of our story. 

Having so much to occupy her time and 
thoughts, Gertrude had no opportunity of 
repeating immediately her visit to Mrs. Ellis. 
She learned through Mr. Ray that Mark had 
been released from prison, as, feeling that 
both were alike to blame, he had brought no 
charge of assault against him. 



In the Old Home Once More. 1 8 1 

Further than this she knew nothing. After 
a few weeks, Charlie having been absent 
from school two Sundays, again she visited 
the tenement house, where, through the 
recital of another’s woes, she had received 
such comfort and encouragement for herself. 
A perfect stranger opened the door in answer 
to her knock, and neither she nor any of the 
other occupants of the house could give any 
information in regard to the family that had 
so lately moved away. 

One woman on the second floor, said that, 
after Mark came out of prison, he was much 
more quiet ; coming home early every even- 
ing. She had also noticed the postman bring 
a letter to Mrs. Ellis one morning, after 
which she heard her singing all day, as she 
moved around in the room above her. A 
few days after this, a cart came to the door, 
and took away all their things ; but people 
were continually coming and going there. 


182 


Amid the Shadows. 


and, as Mrs. Ellis had always kept to herself, 
no one felt sufficiendy acquainted with her to 
ask where she was going. 

Gertrude’s conscience reproved her for her 
neglect, but it was too late now to do aught 
but pray for this family. 

About two years after their abrupt de- 
parture, she was sitting one morning in her 
room, thinking of the great trouble that over- 
shadowed their home, when Mabel came 
dancing up-stairs, crying : 

“ Sister Gerty, a letter — with the funniest 
post-mark. Do you think it can be from 
Harry ?” 

“ No, no, Mabel,” said she, as she took the 
letter from her sister’s hand, “ I know it is 
not from him.” 

But even then her heart beat hurriedly. 
What if anything had happened to their dear 
boy, and the tidings had been sent by a 
stranger ! 


In the Old Home Once More . 183 

The post-mark was that of a small town in 
Vermont; and, as we so often do, she studied 
carefully the address, before she gathered 
courage to open the envelope. Mabel stood 
by, expectant. Even Gerty’s assurance that 
it was not from Harry, could not quite eradi- 
cate the hope that had sprung up in the 
child’s mind, as soon as the letter had been 
given her. 

“No, Mabel,” said Gertrude, with a sigh 
of relief, “I told you it was not from Harry. 
It is a long letter from Mrs. Ellis, the mother 
of a boy that I had in my class at the mission- 
school, some years ago.” 

Mabel turned away disappointed. Al- 
though so small when her brother was at 
home, and, from his conduct, never having 
felt as deeply attached to him as to her father 
and sister, she yet felt that his absence cast a 
sadness over the whole house ; for, carefully 
as Judge Arnold and his daughter tried to 


184 Amid the Shadows. 

hide their burden, it could not but show itself 
at times, and Mabel felt that if Harry would 
only return, the look of sadness would be 
banished from her sister Gerty’s face, and 
her fathers hair would cease to whiten so 
rapidly as it was doing now. 

After Mabel had left the room, Gertrude 
read her letter. From this, and from a sub- 
sequent interview which she had with Mrs. 
Ellis, when she visited town a year or two 
later, she learned the particulars of the 
changes in their lives. 

The week spent by Mark in prison, wait- 
ing to ascertain the result of John Ray’s 
injuries, did more to open his eyes to see 
himself as he really was, than any other 
warning he could have received. He had 
time for thought, and that was something for 
which he had taken no time lately. 

Fond of company, and always welcomed 
as a jovial companion, his days and evenings, 


In the Old Home Once More . 185 

when not employed at his work, (for, though 
in early life his prospects had been so good, 
he had, through his careless habits, lost every 
position which he had held from time to time, 
until he was now but a day-laborer, at any 
work that he was fortunate enough to find), 
were generally spent lounging around bar- 
rooms and corners of the streets. 

It was well then, that, for a little while, he 
was removed from his former haunts, and, in 
the quiet of his prison cell, could think over 
his past life. 

The very uncertainty of his impending fate, 
gave him food for thought. Suppose John 
Ray should die — what was before him then ? 
Even in his dreams, at times, the gallows 
loomed up before him, and he would waken 
with a start, thankful to find only the gloomy 
walls of his cell around him. Think of it all 
as he might, he could not be blind to the 
truth, as to what dire influence had brought 


1 86 


Amid the Shadows . 


him where he was. Yes, he was conscious, 
as never before, what drink had done for 
him. 

Having drained the cup, he was now feel- 
ing the sting of the adder that had lain con- 
cealed in the deepest dregs, — hidden, until 
now, by the sparkle of the ruby drops. 

His wife, neglected, as he knew too well 
she had been, showed now how true was her 
love to him; ministering to his comfort in 
.every way in her power, cheering him in his 
moments of despondency, and bringing the 
first news of the returning health of his 
former associate. 

Softened as his feelings were, she was just 
the one to come to him with a message of 
peace. She spoke to him of their little Alice 
— of the scene at her death-bed ; and the 
father’s hard heart melted. 

That night, after his wife had left, his little 
daughter seemed very near him. All the 


In the Old Home Once More. 187 

events of her short life passed before him. 
He remembered so well, the afternoon that 
he had sent her for the liquor — sent her, just 
because he knew that she did not want to 
go. Yes, there too, liquor had made him a 
murderer. The death of his own little 
daughter had been caused by the same piti- 
less fiend. 

Then he thought over again of what his 
wife had said about her death. He could 
never forget it ; she wanted to feel that 
God was his father. Of the other conversa- 
tion with her mother, he had not heard until 
that afternoon, for his reception of any in- 
formation upon that subject, had never been 
such as to encourage his wife to recite to 
him the particulars of that interview so sacred 
to her. 

He went to sleep thinking of it, and, in his 
dreams, his little daughter seemed to stand 
beside him and ask gently, “ Papa, do you 


1 88 


Amid the Shadows . 


love Jesus?” He awakened — all was dark 
around him, save for the glimmering of a 
light far along the corridor. He could hear 
no sound except, occasionally, the measured 
tread of the guard, as he paced back and 
forth past the cells ; but, once awakened, he 
could not sleep again. 

Continually could he hear repeated, the 
words, “Papa, do you love Jesus?” He 
knew that it had been all a dream, but he 
knew too, that the question was one that he 
must answer to his God. 

Memory carried him back to his boyhood’s 
days, when he knelt at his mother’s knee, 
and listened to her sweet words of Jesus’ 
love. Ah ! he had prayed then, but how 
long it had been now since his lips had 
formed any prayer but that of the swearer ! 
Yes, many and many a time had he prayed 
that prayer, without thinking what the con- 
sequence would be were God to answer it. 


In the Old Home Once More. 189 

He shuddered when he thought where now 
he should have been, had not God been kind 
and forgiving even to him, his avowed enemy. 

Oh, such moments of torture, as he re- 
traced his steps ! After that Christian 
mother had gone home, how far away he 
wandered from truth and right ! He had 
prided himself on his scepticism — had tried 
to think that he had no belief in God’s exist- 
ence, but he had tried in vain. His whole 
life had been a continual warfare against the 
influences of the Holy Spirit. Even when his 
wife had thought him most careless, he had 
assumed much, to hide the conflict that was 
raging. 

After his little daughter’s death, he had 
plunged more deeply into excesses, to drive 
away the thoughts that would come into his 
mind; and little did his companions, who 
always hailed his coming among them as the 
promise of a merry evening, suspect the 


190 


Amid the Shadows. 


heavy heart, hidden by his reckless words 
and actions. All his sins rose before him 
now — his resistance of the Holy Spirit, the 
greatest of them all ; and they seemed as 
a towering mountain, threatening to crush 
him. 

He knew that his intemperate habits had 
brought him where he was now, but he 
wisely felt that this indulgence was but an 
outcropping from the sin in his heart. He 
was conscious that it would be vain to break 
off from that one vice — no, there was some- 
thing more needed than that, mere reforma- 
tion would be only surface work. What 
did he need ? Again came to him the words 
of his dream, “Papa, do you love Jesus?” 
Could it be possible? Was only that 
needed ? Could he come with all his sins to 
the Saviour ? 

Then did memory bring to him the words 
of his mother’s favorite hymn : 


In the Old Home Once More . 191 

“Just as I am, without one plea, 

But that thy blood was shed for me, 

And that thou bidd’st me come to thee, 

Oh, Lamb of God ! I come, I come.” 

“Just as I am.” Yes, he would go, just 
as he was ; a poor, vile, wretched sinner, 
lying in a prison cell, with the possibility of 
a felon’s doom awaiting him. He knelt on 
the cold floor, and, as listening angels bore 
the news to heaven, “ behold, he prayeth,” 
seraph harps were struck with joy anew ; 
and, as in the presence of the angels, there 
is rejoicing over a new-born soul, methinks 
the joys of heaven grew sweeter to that 
mother, whose prayers for her baby boy 
were at last answered, and to that little one 
gathered so early into the heavenly folds of 
the Good Shepherd ; for could he not now 
say, “ Our Father ?” 

He rose from his knees, with his burden 
all gone. He was still a wretched sinner, 


192 


Amid the Shadows . 


but he had found a Saviour. He was, 
“trusting Jesus, that was all.” 

He lay down upon his hard cot, and slept 
as calmly and peacefully as if he had been 
lying on down. When morning broke, he 
wakened with the sweet consciousness that 
God was his friend — a feeling, the blessed- 
ness of which he had never dreamed of 
before. 

He looked forward with joyful expectancy 
to his wife’s daily visit. Before, he had been 
anxious to learn what was the prospect for 
his speedy release ; but now the thought did 
not cross his mind. He was impatient to 
make her heart glad with the recital of his 
night’s experience, and new-born hope. 

Words were scarcely needed to tell her of 
the change, when she came. His face spoke 
to her ere his lips had time to utter a sound ; 
and, as they mingled their tears of joy, both 
felt that they could thank God for the days 


In the Old Home Once More . 193 

of darkness through which they had been 
led into the light. 

The few remaining days of prison life 
seemed as nothing now; and when, John 
Ray having been pronounced out of danger, 
he was allowed his freedom, Mark Ellis left 
the cell to enter upon a world that seemed 
all new to him. 

About a week after his return home, he 
came in from his work, and, putting his arm 
lovingly around his wife, said : 

“ Mary, how would you like to go back to 
the old home in Vermont ?” 

The poor woman could not speak. How 
she had longed for it! How often, in her 
dreams, did she even now sit upon the old 
porch with her aged father. 

Words were not needed to tell her husband 
what she thought of his suggestion. The 
bare idea of the possibility of such a thing 
seemed to make her young again ; and as he 

13 


1 94 


Amid the Shadows. 


told her that, having written to an old friend 
there, asking about the prospects of work, 
he had received such an encouraging answer 
that he felt inclined to leave at once, her face 
brightened up with a smile that had scarcely 
shone there since the days of long ago. 

He had also that day written to her father, 
telling him all, and asking whether he might 
bring his wife and Charlie back to the old 
home. 

A few days must necessarily elapse before 
they could expect to receive an answer, and 
during those few days, how anxiously did 
they all look forward to the postman’s visits. 

At last the letter came — Mrs. Ellis pressed 
it to her lips — the uneven characters that her 
old father’s trembling hand had traced. 

The letter contained but a few words, but 
those were words of such hearty welcome, 
that no wonder her neighbors heard her 
singing all the day long. 


In the Old Home Once More . 195 

Few preparations were needed for their 
departure, and ere many days had passed, 
Mary Ellis stood once more beneath the old 
apple-tree beside the kitchen door, and 
listened to the church bells, for which she 
had so ardently longed, when far beyond the 
reach of their peal. 

She did not have to go alone to church 
now, and on the first Communion Sunday 
after their return, she had the unspeakable 
joy of sitting down with her father and hus- 
band at the “ table of the Lord.” 

As soon as Mark Ellis’ former employers 
heard of his return, they offered him his old 
position, with the promise of a good salary ; 
but he declined at once, telling them that his 
conscience would not permit him to have 
anything to do with the sale of that which 
had so long blighted his life, and had well- 
nigh ruined his soul. 

He found a position where, though, his 


196 Amid the Shadows . 

salary was less, his conscience was at peace. 

Mrs. Ellis’ old father could not express his 
thanks that God had thus brought back to 
him his children in the declining years of his 
life ; and when, about a year after their re- 
turn, they stood around him as his soul took 
its flight into the spirit land, he left them 
with the full assurance that the separation 
was for time alone, not for eternity. 




IX. 

THE SNOW-BANK AT THE GATE. 

“ My spirit shall not always strive. ” — Gen. vi. 3. 

ERTRUDE ARNOLD’S first 
visit to Luke’s home, was by no 
means the last. She felt that here 
was a real mission-field. John Ray himself 
was, from the time he left the hospital, a 
reformed man ; but she knew, too well, the 
temptations that awaited him upon again 
mingling with his former companions, to 
leave him to himself. 

To insure his having one friend whose 
influence should be good, she enlisted the 
sympathy and co-operation of Joe Brady; 



198 


Amid the Shadows. 


who, working day after day beside him, had 
many opportunities for speaking a word of 
encouragement. 

The kind-hearted man entered with his 
whole heart into the work, often persuading 
John to bring his children to spend an hour 
at his cheerful home. 

Mrs. Brady had felt an interest in them, 
ever since they had called upon her in their 
trouble, and scarcely a day passed without 
Joe finding in his basket, at noon, a lunch 
amply sufficient for two ; and he knew well 
enough with whom it was meant to be shared. 

lytany a time the children’s dinner was 
provided by the same kind hand. For as 
months passed, Mrs. Ray gave up even the 
washing, that, though it gave them but little 
help, did something, as long as she per- 
severed in it, to keep them from absolute 
want during their darkest days. 

However, as Mr. Ray’s wages were not 


The Snow-bank at the Gate . 199 

now wasted, as formerly, they were, by 
strict economy, amply sufficient, in Nellie’s 
hands, to supply them with the comforts so 
long denied them. 

Her ingenuity was, however, taxed to the 
uttermost to find safe hiding-places for the 
money with which her father provided her. 

Her mother, knowing when the wages 
were due, would often follow her around the 
rooms for hours, hoping to discover the hid 
treasure ; and, disappointed in that, would 
plead and beg, with tears running down her 
cheeks, that her daughter would supply her 
with enough to satisfy the awful thirst that 
was devouring her. 

Sometimes, finding that tears and plead- 
ings were in vain, she resorted to threats ; 
but never, but once, did she venture to carry 
these into execution. 

One cold winter afternoon, John Ray 
came home from his work, and, unconscious 


200 


Amid the Shadows . 


that his wife was in the next room, called 
Nellie, and, counting out his wages to her„ 
said : 

“ Nellie, we are going to have a cold 
storm ; the air is full of snow. Don’t you 
think we could afford to get some coal ?” 

“ Why, yes, father, of course we could.” 

“ Very well. If you will put away the 
rest of the money, where your mother can’t 
find it, I will go and buy half a ton, and put 
it in before night.” 

“Father, dear,” said Nellie, as she put her 
hand on his shoulder, “it is so nice to have 
you at home in the evenings, now. It is so 
different from what it used to be.” 

“Yes, dear, I know it is. I feel ashamed 
when I think how I have left you alone, so 
often ; but, Nellie, if your mother was only 
different, think what our home would be 
then !” 

“ Oh, father, I can’t understand it ! We 


The Snow-bank at the Gate. 


201 


are all praying for her, but she seems worse 
than ever.” 

“I know it, Nellie, I know it;” and the 
unhappy husband, snatching up his hat, 
hurried from the house. 

Scarcely had he left when the door of the 
inner room opened, and Mrs. Ray, her 
bloated face paled with anger, stood in the 
doorway. 

Nellie shrank away involuntarily, as she 
looked at her. Such an expression she had 
never seen on her mother’s face before. 

Steadying herself by the door-frame, she 
stood awhile, too much excited to speak ; 
then, with frenzy in her very voice, she 
exclaimed : 

“ How dare you talk to your father about 
me ? I’ll show you who’s mistress here. 
Give me that money !” And with fearful 
oaths upon her lips, she crossed the room 
and caught Nellie’s arm. 


202 


Amid the Shadows. 


The poor girl, feeling her helplessness, 
and trembling with fear, was still conscious 
that she must retain possession of the 
money, at whatever cost to herself; and 
strove with all her might to elude her mo- 
ther’s grasp, but in vain. Her mother crazed, 
not so much just now by liquor, as by an 
unsatisfied longing for it — for she had not 
been able to gratify her appetite for more 
than a day — seemed to have supernatural 
strength. The feeble resistance offered by 
Nellie only added to her desperation, and the 
sight of the money, which was to her but 
the means of quenching her unbearable 
thirst, was but as the first drop of blood to 
a caged beast of the forest. 

Nellie longed and prayed for her father’s 
return, and, even while praying, she caught 
the sound of the familiar footsteps. Her 
mother had heard them, too, and, frantic 
with the dread of being foiled at last, she 


The Snow-bank at the Gate . 203 

gathered up all her remaining strength, and 
seizing Nellie by the arm, threw her upon 
the floor with such force, that the poor girl 
lay white and motionless ; then, snatching 
from her relaxed hand the notes that had 
been held beyond her reach, she sprang 
through a back window, just as her husband 
opened the front door, and sped, like a 
hunted animal, along unfrequented streets, 
unmindful of the storm, raging with increas- 
ing fury as the darkness gathered. 

She fled far from home, to new dens of 
vice, fearful lest search might be made at her 
accustomed haunts. 

Mr. Ray was almost stunned with fright 
when he entered the room. 

What could it all mean ? He gently 
raised Nellie, and laying her upon the lounge, 
bathed her head and hands with cold water, 
and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the 
blue eyes open. Oh, how that first glance 


204 


Amid the Shadows. 


reminded him of the blue eyes of his Nellie ! 
not as now, bleared and blood-shot, but lit up 
by love and happiness, with not even the 
shadow over them that was as a dark back- 
ground to his little Nellie’s eyes of blue. . 

“ Where is she ? did she get it ?” gasped 
the child, as soon as she could speak. 

“ Why, Nellie darling, I thought you had 
fallen,” tenderly said her father, as a suspicion 
of the truth flashed across his mind. 

Nellie, raising herself from his arms, looked 
earnestly and searchingly around the room ; 
then, bursting into tears, sobbed out, 

“ Indeed I couldn’t help it, father ; I hadn’t 
time to hide it. I held it as long as I could, 
and just as I heard you coming, she knocked 
me down. Can’t you find her, father, and 
get it ? It is all we have.” 

“ I’ll try, Nellie darling. I know almost 
all the places she goes to, and I will go to 
all until I find her. Never mind supper; I 


The Snow-bank at the Gate. 


205 


don’t want any. I’ll stop first and send Luke 
and Jennie home from Mrs. Brady’s. Luke 
can put in the coal for me.” 

Again the heart-broken husband faced the 
wintry blast, and, having sent home Luke 
and Jennie, took his way among the scenes 
of vice and misery where he expected 
certainly to find his wife. 

Again and again he paused at the door of 
a tavern, and, entering, looked curiously at 
the groups of idlers gathered around the 
tables. 

His presence excited no surprise ; his 
errand was easily guessed ; but again and 
again he passed into the street with disap- 
pointment written upon his face. 

As the night grew older, disappointment 
changed to apprehension, and, as he closed 
the door of the last saloon in which he had 
hoped to find the object of his search, appre- 
hension took a more tangible form, and a 


206 


Amid the Shadows . 


real dread of some coming evil crept into his 
mind. 

With weary feet and aching heart, he 
turned his steps toward home, hoping that 
his wife might have reached there before 
him — but, in this he was again disappointed. 

Only his children waited for him. It 
looked really homelike as he entered. 
Nellie, thinking that he might bring her 
mother in from the storm, had made a 
bright fire that the room might look more 
attractive, and on the stove-hearth stood the 
remainder of the supper, which Mrs. Brady 
had insisted upon sending home by the 
children. 

Oh, if only she were there ! — she, as she 
once was, the pride of his heart. She, 
without whose presence home had been but 
an empty name ! 

Nellie shared in his feelings of uneasiness, 
on her mothers account, and, as they knelt 


The Snow-bank at the Gate. 207 

that evening, earnest and heartfelt were the 
prayers that ascended for the wandering 
wife and mother. 

After the children had gone to bed, Mr. 
Ray still sat and listened to the storm. Far 
away in a distant part of the city, Judge 
Arnold and his daughter waited for the foot- 
steps that did not come ; and the same dark 
shadow was settling down lower and lower 
upon both homes. 

Tired with watching, Mr. Ray fell asleep 
upon the lounge which Luke had drawn up 
before the fire. Suddenly he awakened 
with a start — what was it ? — he thought his 
name was called. He must have been 
dreaming. It sounded like the voice of his 
lost Nellie, except that there was in it a note 
of despair. He listened eagerly ; once again 
he heard what sounded like a moan. He 
opened the door, hoping that she for whom 
he watched was waiting to enter. All was 


208 


Amid the Shadows. 


still, save the pitiless storm. He listened for 
the sound of moaning — yes, he could hear it 
now, it was but the creaking of the old 
maple tree in the yard, as, swayed to and 
fro by the wind, it moaned and sighed as if 
in pain. How deep the snow was ! No 
footsteps were discernible where he had 
entered the gate. Here and there the wind 
had driven the snow into high drifts, and 
just outside the gate was the highest of them 
all ; even as he looked, a fresh burst of 
wind carried a new layer of snow-flakes, and 
the old tree, with its branches bent so as 
almost to touch it, sighed mournfully as over 
a new-made grave. 

Closing the door on the storm, Mr. Ray 
returned to his lonely watch, dreaming not 
that it was ended now — he prayed, knowing 
not that she, for whom he breathed his 
prayer, was where prayer could not avail. 

It was not the first streak of daylight, as 


The Snow-bank at the Gate . 209 

it struggled through the snow-bespattered 
pane, that awakened him from the heavy, 
dreamless sleep into which he had fallen ; 
but the stamping of feet upon the snow- 
covered door-step, that, startling him, made 
him spring from the lounge. 

What could it all mean ? While still but 
half awake, and only gathering by degrees 
the events of the past night, a peremptory 
knock brought him to the door. There 
stood the kind policeman who had once 
before startled Nellie. 

His first question, “ Is your wife at home ?” 
fell with crushing weight on the husband’s 
heart ; and, reading his answer on his face, 
Mr. Seymour took him by the arm, and, 
passing through the yard, led him to the 
snow-drift beside the gate, that had attracted 
his attention when the fancied moanings 
brought him to the door in the deep quiet 
of the night. Were they but fancied moan- 
u 


2 IO 


Amid the Shadows. 


ings ? The snow had been thrown aside, 
and there, with the first rays of the rising 
sun resting upon it, lay the frozen body of 
his once darling Nellie. 

The snow-flakes rested on the uncombed 
locks, and, lit by the dazzling sunbeams, 
seemed to bedeck the poor creature with a 
diadem of jewels, as if in mockery. 

One hand thrown forward, as in a last 
struggle to regain her foothold, still clutched 
in its icy grasp a bottle. This, protruding 
from the seeming snow-drift, had first at- 
tracted Mr. Seymours attention ; and when 
he had pushed away the snow, the first look 
at the bloated face, now cold in death, con- 
vinced him that the poor child who had so 
excited his sympathy, was relieved of the 
dreadful burden that had so long been resting 
upon her. 

The grief of the children, when they 
learned the fate of her who had been a 


The Snow-bank at the Gate . 


21 1 


mother but in name, was as heartfelt as 
though she had cared for them with a real 
mother’s care ; while to the husband, as he 
gazed upon the lifeless form lying in the 
coffin, she was the wife of long ago, ere the 
curse had rested upon her. All her mis- 
deeds were forgotten, and his grief was as 
it might have been, had she slept that 
dreamless sleep while the flowers of her 
bridal wreath were yet unfaded. 

But when they had laid her to rest beside 
the baby’s grave, and, returning to their 
quiet home, felt, as night drew on, that there 
were no unsteady footsteps for which they 
must wait and watch to-night, who could 
blame them, if even the husband breathed 
more freely, and felt that, fearful as had been 
the means, still the shadow had been lifted 
from their home. 

Of the future of her who had left them, 
even little Jennie dared not whisper. 


2 I 2 


Amid the Shadows . 


As the minister, who had walked with 
them to the baby’s grave, stood beside the 
coffin of that baby’s mother, he had spoken 
no word of hope — not a word to lead the 
mourning ones to look beyond the clouds 
into the unshadowed land, if they would 
catch a glimpse of their lost one — not one 
word; each lip was sealed. She had left 
them, that was all ; but the husband, calling 
to remembrance the proud moment when 
with sweet Nellie Gordon standing at his 
side, he had heard the solemn words pro- 
nounced that made them one, felt that the 
link was severed now, forever. 

During the sad days before and after the 
funeral, kind Mrs. Brady was still their faith- 
ful friend ; and Gertrude Arnold, as soon as 
she learned what had happened, laid aside, 
for a time, her own grief, to sympathize with 
the children in their trouble. 

After the death of Mrs. Ray, time passed 


The Snow-bank at the Gate. 213 

quietly and pleasantly in the home where 
the shadow had so long rested. 

Mr. Ray himself never ceased to mourn 
the wife of his early love, but he had lost her 
many years before the grave closed over the 
erring wife of his blighted home. As years 
passed, her errors and sins sunk into the 
daisy-covered grave ; and it was only when 
looking forward to eternity that he realized 
the depth of the awful chasm that yawned 
between them. 

Sadly he felt it one bright Sunday morn- 
ing, about two years after we first saw little 
Nellie gazing with wonder at the brightness 
beyond the sunset. The church bells rang 
merrily, calling God’s children to their 
Father’s house. In the mission-church which 
Mr. Ray and his children now regularly 
attended, the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper 
was to be adminstered ; and, as the com- 
municants took their places in the front 


214 


Amid the Shadows. 


pews, he, with Nellie, for the first time, 
joined them, and took the seats beside Joe 
Brady and his wife, which they had been care- 
ful to keep for them. 

This step was one which Mr. Ray had all 
this time hesitated to take. He felt, in some 
way, that it would only widen the gulf be- 
tween him and the wife, separated from him 
not by death alone ; but Nellie had decided 
to confess before the world her love for the 
Saviour, and had urged him to join her. 

On his knees he had earnestly asked for 
direction, and, guided by the Holy Spirit, 
had taken his place with his daughter at the 
table of the Lord. 

How close the Saviour seemed to him ! 
He could realize His divine presence as 
never before, and felt as if sitting at the 
feast with his Master at its head. But there 
seemed a vacant place beside him ; and as 
the minister read the sacred words, “ as often 


The Snow-banh at the Gate. 215 

as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye 
do show the Lord’s death till He come,” his 
thoughts looked forward to that other feast, 
when the redeemed shall gather at the 
“ marriage-supper of the Lamb and the 
dread lest one he had loved so here should 
be absent there, filled his soul with a grief 
that no earthly trouble — no grave over which 
hope still hovered, could ever have caused ; 
and, leaning his head upon the pew, he shed 
bitter tears over the loss which even eternity 
itself could not replace. 

Silently he left the church with Nellie, 
and, joined by Luke and Jennie, he passed 
from street to street, but not towards home. 
The children looked at each other in won- 
der, for they saw that their father was 
leading them to their old home on Grove 
Street, which they had left some months 
before. 

They paused before the gate, and looked 


2l6 


Amid the Shadows . 


with sad memories at their deserted home. 
The flowers that Luke took such pains to 
cultivate bloomed among the weeds, while 
over the door, the clematis which Mr. Ray 
had transplanted and trained so carefully, 
grew luxuriantly. 

They opened the gate and walked up the 
path they had so often trodden. To the 
husband, the sound of their footsteps seemed 
to echo back to him the uncertain, stumbling 
tread for which he had so often listened. 
He entered the house alone. He could not 
bear that even his children should read his 
thoughts this day, and, kneeling in the 
empty room, he wept sad tears over the grave 
of the past ; but, as lie prayed, the smile of 
God rested upon him, and grace was given 
to leave his whole burden at the foot of the 
cross. 

He joined his children with the light of 
heavenly peace shining in his face — hence- 


The Snow-bank at the Gate . 217 

forth he would live for the future, not for the 
sad, irrevocable past. 

Never again would he return to these 
scenes of sad memories ; and if, in his dreams, 
he should sometimes wander among the hills, 
with his pure, unsullied Nellie, on awakening 
he would forget the dark days between, and 
live in the enjoyment of their happy child- 
ren’s love. 

The home they now entered was one full 
of brightness. On either side of the garden- 
walk bloomed flowers, as bright as those 
which had so pleased Luke in Mrs. Brady’s 
yard. On opening the door, a flood of sun- 
shine brightened the whole room, and a 
canary bird, hanging before the window, 
trilled forth his song of welcome. Nellie’s 
face beamed with new joy, as she clasped 
Gertrude Arnold’s hand after Sunday-school 
that afternoon, and that young Christian felt 


2 I 8 


Amid the Shadows. 


that the happiness of having been, in these 
days of her sorrow, the means of bringing 
this one family to Jesus, sweetened the bitter 
cup that was being held to her lips. 



X. 


THE SHADOW OF THE SHADOW. 

“ Visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children.” — Ex. 
xx. 5. 

ONTHS lengthened into years, 
and still the brightness shone on 
the home of Mr. Ray. Being able 
to command high wages, he could now pro- 
vide his family with many comforts, of which 
they had, at one time, scarcely dreamed. 

Luke and Jennie went regularly to school, 
while Nellie acted as housekeeper, and tried 
to gain the education denied her in her 
youth, while hearing her brother and sister 
studying their lessons in the evenings. 



220 


Amid the Shadows . 


She stood one afternoon at the door, wait- 
ing for her loved ones. Again she gazed 
on the sunset brightness, still an image of 
the glory into which she should enter, when 
her life of tears and smiles should end. 

She was eighteen now, but her poor, 
deformed body, though more rugged than 
formerly, had never recovered from the 
blight received in its youth, and ever re- 
mained as a reminder of the shadow. 

She looked, therefore, scarcely taller than 
Jennie; who, seeing her sister waiting at the 
door, quickened her slow pace, and ran joy- 
ously in at the gate to receive her kiss of 
welcome. 

Luke had outgrown them all, and looked 
almost a man, instead of a boy of sixteen, as 
he loitered along the street, instead of leap- 
ing over the fence, as he was wont to do, to 
meet his sister. 

Nellie stood with her arm around Jennie, 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 221 

waiting for him ; still he seemed in no hurry 
to enter the yard, but vented the displeasure 
depicted on his face, on every stick and stone 
in his path. 

“ Why, Jennie,” said Nellie, in surprise, 
“what has happened wrong? Do you 
know ?” 

As she said this, looking more closely into 
her sisters face, she saw that the flush on 
her cheek was not all caused by the excite- 
ment of her late run. 

As she remained silent, Nellie repeated 
the question ; this time with a real anxiety 
in her voice, which was in no way relieved 
by the evasive answer which Jennie gave. 

“Oh, nothing, I guess; any how, Luke 
wouldn’t want me to tell.” 

“Tell what, Jennie? Now, I know 
something is wrong. Well, I’ll go ask him 
myself and taking her arm from her 
sister’s waist, she went to the gate, and called 


222 


Amid the Shadows. 


Luke, who had thrown himself upon the 
grass, a short distance from it. 

Receiving no answer, she opened the gate, 
and took a seat beside him. 

No smile of welcome lit up her brother’s 
face as she joined him ; instead, it was 
clouded by a look of sullenness that she had 
never seen there before. 

“ What is the matter, Luke, dear ?” said 
she, kindly. 

“ I wish you wouldn’t ‘ dear ’ me. I ain’t 
a baby !” 

Such words, coming in such a tone, from 
a brother, on whom, even in his childhood, 
she had depended for help, even as though 
he were older than she, sent a sharp arrow 
into her heart ; but, choking back the tears, 
that would rise, she asked : 

“ Have I done anything to offend you ? 
I was afraid you might be sick ?” 

“ No, I ain’t sick, but I am tired of being 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 223 

treated like a boy, here at home. All the 
fellows of our class laugh at me. They say 
I am tied to your apron string.” He did 
not repeat what one had said about her, 
which so aroused his anger at the time, that 
he had struck the coward who dared to 
make sport of his sisters infirmity. 

“ What is it, Luke ? What has happened ?” 

“Just what I tell you; and now, even 
Jennie dares to dictate to me about my 
friends.” 

“ Now, Luke,” said the younger sister, 
who had joined them, “ I only told you that 
I knew father wouldn’t want you to go with 
Ned Lyon and Will Collins.” 

“ And I’d like to know what business it is 
of yours, Miss Pert, who I go with ? I guess 
I can choose my own friends.” 

Nellie did not know what to answer. For 
some time, ever indeed since he had been in 
his present class at school, she had noticed a 


224 


Amid the Shadows . 


gradual change creeping over her once frank, 
noble brother. She could not define to her- 
self even, what that change was ; and, as her 
father had not seemed to notice it, she had 
latterly attributed it to her own over- watch- 
fulness and extreme solicitude, and had thus 
almost succeeded in driving away the dread 
of coming evil that had, for a time, been 
shadowing her heart. Now her feelings of 
apprehension returned with renewed strength 
— the “something” seemed to be assum- 
ing a real shape. 

Controlling herself with an effort, she 
calmly said: 

“ Come in now, Luke, will you ? Supper 
will be ready as soon as father comes home.” 

“ Well, I want my supper, for I am going 
out this evening.” 

“ Where ?” 

“ Do I have to tell just where I am going ? 


The Shadow of the Shadow . 225 

Will Collins says that he never has to ask 
when he wants to go out.” 

Poor Nellie ! he had never made her heart 
ache before. 

She rose from the ground and entered the 
gate, just as she saw her father approaching 
from the opposite direction. 

Luke saw him too, and springing over the 
fence, entered the house alone. 

Nellie forced herself to meet her father 
with a smile, but it was impossible to hide 
the fact that something was amiss, and the 
cheerfulness around the supper-table was 
evidently maintained with great effort, for 
Mr. Ray saw that something was wrong, and 
the sullen look on his sons usually bright 
face, as he ate his supper in silence, gave 
him some insight into the cause. 

Believing that, if his boy had any childish 
trouble, he would confide it to him when 
they were alone, as he had always done 
IS 


226 


Amid the Shadows. 


heretofore, he forbore asking any questions ; 
but as he pushed back his chair from the 
table, he said : 

“ Luke, Fm going over to see Joe Brady 
this evening. I guess you’d like to go see 
Jim, wouldn’t you ? As it is Saturday, you 
won’t have any lessons to study, and you can 
enjoy yourselves as you like.” 

Without raising his eyes from nis plate, 
Luke muttered : 

“ I have an engagement this evening.” 

Mr. Ray looked at him in astonishment. 
A half-concealed smile lurked in the corner 
of his mouth, for the thought had never 
crossed his mind, that his son was any less a 
boy than when he sat upon his knee, watch- 
ing for the mother and little sister who tarried 
so long that gloomy night ; but as he looked 
up in Nellie’s eyes, and saw the tears, which 
would be hidden no longer, the smile 
vanished, and the look of anxiety on his 


The Shadow of the Shadow . 227 

daughter’s face was reflected in his own. 

“ An engagement ! Why, what do you 
mean, Luke ?” 

“ Just that, sir. I think I am quite old 
enough to go out when I please, and I have 
an engagement to take a walk this evening.” 

“ Of course you are old enough to go out 
when you please, provided you go to the 
right places, and with the right people. 
What boys are you going to walk with ?” 

“ Some of the fellows in our class.” 

“ Oh !” and Mr. Ray could scarcely con- 
trol an impulse to laugh at the manner in 
which the answer was given. 

“ Well, who are they ?” 

“ I heard Jim Brady say may be he would 
go, and some of us asked Morris Stedman,” 
said he, hesitatingly, knowing that the men- 
tion of the names of the two who were 
certainly to be his companions, would be 
followed by a positive command from his 


228 


Amid the Shadows. 


father to stay at home ; and forbearing to 
mention that Morris Stedman, the son of their 
minister, had positively refused to accept the 
invitation to join the party, and also that Jim 
Brady’s conditional acceptance was only 
given before he knew who, beside Luke, 
were going. 

“Well,” said Mr. Ray, “I guess if Jim 
Brady and Morris Stedman are going, you 
won’t get into much mischief.” 

Receiving this as a consent that he had 
not dared to ask, Luke hastily left the table, 
and prepared himself to leave the house. 

Nellie breathed more freely. “Why, 
Jennie,” said she, as the two girls busied 
themselves in washing the dishes, and put- 
ting the room in order, “ it was nothing after 
all. Father didn’t care about his going.” 

“ I know, Nellie ; but indeed I don’t believe 
Morris and Jim are going. I was coming- 
home from the store, and saw Luke at the 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 229 

corner of the next street, talking to Will 
Collins and Ned Lyon. As I came up, Will 
said, “ Will you be sure to meet us, Luke ?” 
and before he had time to answer, he saw 
me, and said, “ Hush, Will, she’ll tell and 
then he was mad, because I said that I knew 
father wouldn’t want him to be with those 
boys.” 

Luke had already left the house, and her 
father had gone to spend an hour or two 
with Joe Brady ; so Nellie could do nothing 
now, but wait and pray. 

Luke left the house with a heavy weight 
upon his heart. For the first time, he was 
deceiving his kind father, and the gentle 
sister who, with him, had borne so long the 
burden that he never could forget — but then, 
what else could he do ? 

He was tired, as he had told them, of 
being treated like a boy ; and if he had men- 
tioned the names of his two friends, his father 


23 ° 


Amid the Shadows. 


would have been sure to forbid his going, 
and then the boys would laugh at him again. 
Well, it was only for this once, any how — 
just to show the boys that he could do as he 
pleased, and then they wouldn’t taunt him 
any more. 

As he came in sight of his companions, 
waiting at the corner, he thrust his hands 
into his pockets, and whistled in a care-for- 
nothing way, lest they might suspect that he 
already regretted the step he had taken. 

“Halloa, Luke !” called out Will Collins, 
“ you don’t say she let you come !” 

“You’d better hold your tongue, Will,” 
said Ned Lyon, in a low tone; “he’s awful 
soft about that hump-backed sister of his, 
and if you make him mad, he’ll spoil all our 
fun.” 

Luke had been too far away to hear every 
word of Will’s remark, so he answered gayly : 

“ Come ! of course, I could come. I’m in 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 231 

for a gay old time, to-night. What are you 
going to do ?” 

“ Well,” said Ned, “ Will and I have been 
talking it over. There’s a jolly play at the 
theatre to-night, and as we thought you 
hadn’t been there very often, we guessed 
that would do.” 

Luke was ashamed to acknowledge that 
this would be his first visit to such a place, 
and dared not bring upon himself the ridicule 
of his companions, by saying that his father 
did not approve of his going, so he hesita- 
tingly replied : 

“ I didn’t think that you were going there, 
so I forgot to bring any money.” 

“ Oh, that’s nothing,” said Will ; “ Ned and 
I will attend to that. We don’t often have a 
chance to take with us a young man who 
generally spends his evenings washing ” — 
“ dishes for his sister,” he was going to say, 
but the flash of Luke’s eye, and the clench- 


232 Amid the Shadows . 

in g of his fist, together with a warning grasp 
on the arm from Ned, cut his sentence short, 
and he ended his remark with a derisive 
whistle. 

“ Oh, come along, boys,” said Ned ; “ don’t 
get into a quarrel. We won’t get good seats 
if we don’t hurry.” 

Without another word, Luke suffered him- 
self to be led into one of the lowest theatres 
in the city, stilling the whisperings of con- 
science by a promise to himself, that it was 
only for this once. 

As soon as the curtain rose, the novelty 
of his surroundings drove all other thoughts 
from his mind, and he became entirely 
absorbed in the scenes which seemed to him 
so real. 

He was rudely awakened from his dream 
of delight, by a rapturous burst of applause, 
and loud, uncontrollable laughter, that fol- 
lowed the utterance of a joke, that, to his 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 233 

mind, unused as it was to such sources of 
amusement, seemed to merit but a blush. 

But before the performance was ended, he 
had forced himself to join in the merriment, 
lest the boys might ridicule his want of 
spirit. 

It was with a feeling of relief, that he left 
the door of the theatre, determining that he 
would, as soon as possible, part company 
with the boys, and hurry home, before his 
father should suspect, from his prolonged 
absence, that he had deceived him. 

But his evil companions enjoyed too 
heartily thus leading into forbidden paths, 
one who had, during these later years, been 
shielded by the watchful care of a loving 
father and sister, from the evil of the world, 
to permit him to escape their toils thus 
easily. With well simulated friendship, each 
boy put an arm through his, and, chatting 
merrily of the wonders of the scenes they 


234 


Amid the Shadows. 


had witnessed, led him, unsuspicious of their 
purpose, to the door of a saloon, where 
bright lights and gay music served as at- 
tractions to draw young men and boys into 
the snare of the fiend, whose emissaries 
sparkled and glittered on the counter. 

Luke drew back. He remembered well, 
when, a boy, he had crept stealthily in at 
such a door, and his face, crimsoned with 
shame, had gazed searchingly around the 
room to find his own mother. 

He almost felt again the blow which his 
cheek received when he had urged her to 
leave Fagan’s saloon, and bring them bread, 
so many years ago. 

No, he could not enter there ! True, he 
was confident that he could not be tempted 
to taste that which had been the bane of his 
boyhood, but, even then, his recollections of 
the past would not let him cross the thresh- 
old. 


The Shadow of the Shadow . 235 

Ned and Will were, however, not to be 
baffled. 

Turning with surprise toward the shrink- 
ing Luke, Will exclarmed : 

“ Why, man, what is it ? Are you afraid 
your father will scold ? Why, it ain’t bed- 
time, yet, unless he makes you go to bed 
with the chickens.” 

Galled by the taunt, Luke was ashamed 
to acknowledge his aversion to entering. 
The boys in this neighborhood knew nothing 
of the circumstances of his mother’s death, 
and he dreaded their suspecting the truth, 
knowing well that it would be to them but a 
new subject for sneers and ridicule ; but he 
must say something, for they were interpret- 
ing his refusal as a fear that his father might 
reprove him ; so, assuming an air of perfect 
indifference, he replied, in an indignant 
tone : 

“ I guess I can go home when I please, 


236 


Amid the Shadows . 


Will Collins ; but I don’t want to go in 
there.” 

“ No, of course he don’t,” said Ned, in a 
tone of mock sympathy. “ Let’s go home, 
Will. We are all too young to have a glass 
of lemonade.” 

“Well, Ned,” sneered Will, “I didn’t 
think you were a coward, too. Who’s wait- 
ing at home to smell your breath, if you do 
take a glass ?” 

Ned thought of his lonely widowed mo- 
ther, waiting night after night for her only 
son, but he stifled the thought with a sup- 
pressed oath, and answered : 

“ Who said I was afraid of anybody, Will 
Collins? Come, Luke, let’s show him that 
we dare to go in, and hear the music, any- 
how.” 

Ashamed to make further resistance, Luke 
allowed himself to be led across the thresh- 
old, and the dazzling lights blinded his eyes. 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 237 

The boys walked in the garden for a little 
while, listening to the strains of music that 
filled the air, until Will said : 

“Well, Ned, how about that lemonade? 
Do you dare to have a glass ?” 

“Dare! of course I do. What are you 
talking about? Here, boy,” addressing a 
waiter who was passing, “ bring three glasses 
of lemonade. Don’t forget now — weak 
lemonade.” 

“ I’ll remember,” answered the boy, to 
whom a covert nod from Will meant more 
than Ned’s emphasized request for “weak 
lemonade.” 

Luke took a seat at a table with the boys. 
He need not surely refuse a glass of lemon- 
ade ; they often had that at home. 

The return of the waiter with the three 
glasses, put an end to any question that had 
arisen in his mind, as to whether or not he 
should accept the boys’ proffered kindness ; 


238 


Amid the Shadows . 


but when he had tasted his so-called lemon- 
ade, he could not but notice that it was 
different from any that Nellie had ever made 
for him. 

Will Collins observed that his glass was 
scarcely touched, when theirs were half emp- 
tied; and, exchanging with Ned a glance of 
malicious delight, he whispered in a loud 
voice to his companion, 

“ I say, Ned, this is too strong for Luke. 
You forgot he wasn’t used to lemonade. 
You ought to have ordered sugar and water.” 

The blood rushed to Luke’s face at the 
sneering tone in which the remark was 
made ; and, lifting his glass, he drained it to 
the dregs. 

It was different from any that he had ever 
tasted at home — but how good it was ! 
Nothing so palatable had ever passed his 
lips. 

A neighboring clock struck eleven, and 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 239 

he started to his feet. His companions 
seemed satisfied now, and passed into the 
street with him. 

How strangely his head felt ! Will, watch- 
ing him intently, saw him pass his hand once 
or twice across his forehead, and asked 
laughingly : 

“What’s the matter, Luke ? a headache ? 
I told you, Ned, that he couldn’t stand lem- 
onade. I guess we’d better lead him home 
at the same time putting his hand upon 
Luke’s arm. 

“ Let me alone, Will Collins, will you ? 
I’m going down this street and before the 
boys had time to stop him, he had turned 
away from them, and was some distance 
down a narrow street that led directly home. 

“ I say, Ned,” called out Will, in a taunting 
tone, loud enough for Luke to hear, “that’s 
polite, isn’t it? Not even a ‘thank-you,’ for 
all that we have done for him. I guess that 


240 


Amid the Shadows. 


hump-backed sister of his teaches him man- 
ners.” 

Luke involuntarily doubled his feet, but 
did not turn. 

As he drew near home, his quick pace 
slackened, and his feet moved but slowly 
over the ground. How would he be re- 
ceived ? A light burned in the kitchen. 
His father was waiting for him — he might 
have known it. What a fool he had been 
to let those boys keep him out so long. It 
was well that he had made up his mind that 
it was only this once. 

He entered the gate, whistling carelessly, 
despite the headache which was growing 
worse every moment. As he did so, the 
door opened, and his father said, kindly : 

“ Why, my boy, you are late home from 
your walk.” 

“Yes, father,” said Luke, his face burning 
with the blush, which his father could not 


The Shadow of the Shadow . 241 

see in the darkness, “ we were out in the 
park, and didn’t know how late it was.” 

“I thought you said Jim Brady was 
going ?” 

“ No, sir, I said we asked him,” replied 
Luke, trying to conceal his impatience at 
being so closely questioned, lest his very 
vexation might rouse suspicion. 

“ And did Morris Stedman go ?” 

“No, sir,” stammered Luke, “he couldn’t 
come and, hastily lifting a lamp from the 
table, he was about to leave the room. 

As he reached forward for the lamp, his 
face almost touched his father. 

With a look of most intense agony spread- 
ing over his countenance, Mr. Ray grasped 
his son’s arm with such force that the lamp 
almost fell from his hand, and with words, 
almost inaudible, from deep, heartfelt anxiety, 
he exclaimed : 

“ Luke, what have you been doing ?” 

1 6 


242 


Amid the Shadows . 


“ Nothing,” muttered Luke, sullenly. 

“ What have you been drinking ?” almost 
shrieked his father, the memory of the past 
well-nigh driving him mad. 

“ A glass of lemonade. What of that ?” 
answered he, almost defiantly, for his head- 
ache was becoming unbearable, and he longed 
to escape from his fathers presence. 

Mr. Ray could not speak. He suffered 
his son to go to his room without another 
word, and, resting his head upon his hands, 
he passed hours, the bitterness of which none 
knew but his God. 

The first gray light of morning entered the 
\vindow, before he forced himself to rise from 
the chair, into which he had almost fallen. 
Then it was not that he might sleep, but only 
to prevent Nellie from suspecting the truth. 

The shadow ! oh, the shadow ! — how 
stealthily it seemed to be creeping back to 
its old place on the hearth. 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 243 

He entered the room, occupied by himself 
and Luke. He could not lie down beside 
his boy. He knew that he could not sleep, 
so all through the early morning hours, he 
sat with his head resting upon the table, 
scarcely thinking — only watching the shadow. 

Luke was not awake at breakfast-time, 
Sunday morning; so telling Nellie, whose 
anxious inquiries about the pallor of his face, 
it was almost impossible to evade, to let him 
rest, as he had been out rather late the night 
before, his father sat down silently to force 
himself to eat something. 

Nellie had felt anxious about Luke ever 
since her conversation with Jennie, and her 
solicitude had not let her sleep, until a few 
minutes before his return. 

She was awakened once, as she thought, 
by a loud scream from her father. She 
sprang up, and would have gone to him, but 
hearing her brother enter his room, quietly, 


244 


Amid the Shadows. 


and listening, in vain, for another sound, she 
concluded that she had been dreaming, so 
slept again. 

The morning brought back her feelings of 
anxiety ; but the look of illness on her fathers 
face changed the current of her thoughts, 
dreaming not that it arose from the same 
source as her own uneasiness of mind. 

She could not leave her father in the 
morning, and Jennie went to church alone. 

Just before dinner, Luke awoke; and as 
the events of the past night rushed into his 
mind, how gladly would he have hidden 
himself where he should never again meet 
his father’s eye. 

Why had he listened to those boys ? Why 
hadn’t he listened to Jennie’s warning ? — or 
rather, why hadn’t Jennie insisted upon his 
staying at home ? He felt angry at himself, 
and so, of course with all around him, trying, 
unreasonably, to throw the blame, which he 


The Shadow of the Shadow. 245 

alone deserved, upon some one else, even 
though that “ some one,” were only his little 
sister, whose mild reproof he had received 
so ungraciously. 

Well, he must meet his father some time, 
and the sooner it was over the better ; so, 
assuming an air of indifference, he entered 
the kitchen. 

Nellie was making preparations for dinner, 
and looked up with a pleasant greeting, to 
ask if he was rested after his walk. His im- 
patient answer surprised and grieved her, 
and with out further remark, she left the 
room, to bring some needed article from the 
cellar. 

His father sat, his head resting upon his 
hand, but at Luke’s hasty reply to his sister, 
he raised it. How changed he was ! The 
look on his face recalled to Luke some of 
the dark days of long ago, which he had 
thought blotted from his memory forever. 


246 Amid the Shadows. 

He spoke kindly to his son, who soon left 
the house, and stayed outside, until recalled 
by a summons to dinner. 

The dinner-table was not nearly as cheer- 
ful as usual. Her father and Nellie asked 
Jennie of the sermon she had heard ; but, 
that topic exhausted, farther conversation 
seemed impossible. 

In the afternoon, all the family prepared 
to attend Sunday-school. Luke knew that 
his father would exercise his authority, if 
he expressed his intention of absenting him- 
self from his class, so forbore making any 
remarks upon the subject ; but just before 
entering the church he gave a trifling excuse 
as a reason for remaining outside for a little 
while. Fearing then that his father might 
look for him, he quickly turned into the next 
street, and was soon far away from home 
and school. 

" You don’t catch me meeting her to-day, 


The Shadow of the Shadow . 247 

muttered he to himself ; “ I wouldn’t have 
her know about it for fifty dollars.” 

He remembered the day he escaped from 
Miss Arnold, after his vain attempt to take 
his mother home. She never spoke to him 
of it afterward. She evidently understood it 
all after the scene at the baby’s funeral. 

How kind she had been since ! How 
much interest she had taken in his progress 
at school ! But he couldn’t see her to-day — 
to-day of all days, for she had told her boys 
that she wanted to form a temperance 
society, and would bring, that day, a pledge 
for them all to sign. 

A pledge, indeed ! as if he needed to 
sign a pledge ! Wasn’t it enough for him 
that his mother had died a drunkard ? Did 
he need to promise that he would never taste 
liquor ? No indeed, he didn’t. Of course 
he would never touch a drop. Hadn’t he 
made up his mind to that last night when he 


248 Amid the Shadows . 

went with the boys into the garden ? No, 
he would drink lemonade with them, but not 
a bit of liquor. 

That lemonade — how good it was ! How 
he would like to have another glass, now ; he 
felt so thirsty after his quick walk. He had 
thought it looked rather dark, but that was 
only from the gas-lights, he guessed. 

Yes, he would like just such a drink again. 
Poor boy ! he was unconscious of the demon 
that had slumbered so long within his breast, 
waiting but for a summons like this to arouse 
to activity. Yes, years ago, the first seeds 
had been sown of an appetite, of the existence 
of which he, as yet, dreamed not — planted 
there by every drop of nourishment received 
from his mothers breast ; they had been 
fostered and enriched by many a soothing 
draught, prepared by that mother to quiet 
his cries, when they interfered with the 
gratification of her own fast growing appe- 


The Shadow of the Shadow . 249 

tite. Often the long sleeps, hailed by his 
father as signs of rugged baby health, had 
been induced by a few drops from her own 
precious bottle. 

Luke little suspected the enemy against 
which he must contend for a life- time. It 
was not outward influence which he had 
most to dread, but an inherited taste, that, 
co-operating with any evil influence exerted 
over him, would make his burden ten-fold 
as heavy as that of one whose babyhood had 
not been darkened by the shadow. 

The dark cloud whose approach his father 
had watched so despairingly through the 
long sad hours of the preceding night, was 
not the shadow itself — it was but the shadow 
of the shadow. 




XI. 

a mother’s legacy. 

“ The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth 
are set on edge.” — Ez. xviii. 2. 

ROM his place in the Bible-class, 
Mr. Ray watched with deep anxiety 
for the return of his son to Miss 
Arnold’s class ; but the exercises commenced, 
and yet his seat was vacant. 

What could it mean ? He could not pay 
attention to the lesson which Mr. Stedman 
was explaining with so much care ; so ex- 
cusing himself he went to the door to call 
Luke. He was nowhere to be seen — per- 
haps he was sick, and had returned home ; 



A Mother's Legacy . 251 

so, with a heavy heart, he left the church, 
and hastened homeward. No one was there. 
Where could he be ? 

Leaving the door-key where he knew 
Nellie would find it, he walked out on a 
country road, that he had noticed was much 
frequented by boys on Sunday afternoon. 
It led to the most public part of the park, 
and Mr. Ray rightly suspected that he should 
find Luke there. 

Many were coming and going as he 
entered the gate, but he looked among them 
in vain for his boy. A crowd was collected 
around a stand just within the entrance, and 
he drew near, scanning eagerly each face. 

One group particularly attracted his atten- 
tion. Three boys, two of whom he knew as 
of notoriously bad character, seemed to be 
urging a third, whose face was hidden from 
him, to take one of three glasses that had 
been filled for them. 


252 Amid the Shadows. 

He seemed at first to give a decided 
refusal ; but the laughs and jeers of his so- 
called friends by degrees prevailed, and he 
was just on the point of raising the glass to 
his lips, when a movement in the crowd 
revealed to the agonized father, the face of 
his own son. 

Ere the glass touched Luke’s lips his hand 
was seized, and the sparkling poison, whose 
fumes had already revived the fiend whose 
slumbers had been last night ended, was 
dashed to the ground. 

With an oath, the first that his father had 
ever heard pass his lips, he turned angrily, 
and met a look that startled him into silence. 

Unheeding the sneers and boisterous 
'laugh of his comrades, he suffered himself to 
be led out of the enclosure, and along the 
road over which he had an hour ago passed 
with such defiant feelings. 

On through street after street, hi« father 


A Mother 's Legacy. 


253 


led him silently. His feelings were too deep 
for utterance — the shadow, oh ! the shadow, 
how like a pall of blackest darkness, it hung 
over and around him ; each step only plung- 
ing him deeper into its gloom. 

Still with his hand resting on the arm of 
Luke, who was awed into submission by the 
voiceless despair, written on his fathers face, 
he passed on, almost mechanically, until 
he reached the entrance of the cemetery 
where he had laid the sin -blighted body of 
his wife — the mother of his boy. 

Luke shuddered as he saw the spot towards 
which their footsteps were directed. He 
would have drawn back, but the light touch 
of his fathers hand — so light that it seemed 
as if he was scarcely conscious that he 
touched his son, tightened to an iron grasp, 
and led him on, on, until they stood together 
at the head of the grave, over which such 
sad memories still hovered. 


254 Amid the Shadows. 

Then the fathers feelings, pent up so long, 
would be controlled no longer ; and flinging 
himself upon the grass, the agony that had 
been shut up in his well-nigh breaking heart, 
burst forth with unchecked violence. 

Alarmed at such wild, despairing grief, 
Luke felt that he must say something. He 
could bear it no longer, and forcibly drawing 
his father’s hand from his face, he said, 
calmly ; 

“ Indeed, father, it is nothing. I didn’t 
mean to grieve you so. I didn’t feel like 
going to Sunday-school, so I took a little 
walk, and some friends of mine asked me to 
take some lemonade.” 

His voice in no way tended to calm his 
father, but in a tone of deepest despair, min- 
gled with indignation, he exclaimed : 

“ Friends of yours ! — lemonade ! Why, 
Luke, what do you mean ? are you blind ?” 
And then, the very effort to speak having, in 


A Mother's Legacy . 255 

a measure, calmed him, he continued, point- 
ing to the grave : 

“Have you forgotten, Luke? How can 
you forget her? Oh ! my boy, my boy, 
have pity on me ! You would have tasted 
what killed your mother — my own sweet 
Nellie !” and then, forgetting his sons pre- 
sence, he raved insanely of his darling, as he 
had seen her among the hills — as he had 
known and loved her when first she was his 
bride ; and then he implored and besought 
her not to give their boy the cup that had 
wrecked their happiness. 

Lukes touch on his shoulder recalled 
him to himself and to the present, and turn- 
ing, the agony written on his face melted 
the boy’s heart ; and bursting into tears, he 
promised, never, never to give him such pain 
again. 

Evening had set in before they left the 
cemetery ; and even Nellie never knew why 


256 


Amid the Shadows. 


there were traces of tears on her father’s 
cheeks, or why there was more tenderness 
than usual in the tone in which he addressed 
Luke, who himself had a subdued manner, 
such as had been strange to him for some 
time. She knew not of the prayer that had 
ascended to heaven, from beside that silent 
grave ; but our Father in heaven heard it, 
as from a heart full to overflowing, it was 
breathed by the father for his only son — that 
he might be kept from treading in the foot- 
steps of her who lay beneath the sod, and be 
made strong with heavenly wisdom to resist 
the tempter. An echo of that prayer fol- 
lowed Luke for many days, and gave him 
strength to bear the taunts with which his 
comrades assailed him, rather than grieve 
again his loving father. 

But he knew not the enemy against which 
he had to contend ; and, confident in his own 
strength, he felt not the need of aught beside. 


A Mother 's Legacy. 


257 


He even positively, though politely, refused 
to sign the pledge, which Miss Arnold pre- 
sented to her class, not for the reason as- 
signed by some, that it would be signing 
away his liberty, but because he felt that it 
would be an acknowledgment of his weakness. 
Just as if he needed anything to help him 
to say “ no !” — he had surely had lesson 
enough ! 

He even gave up for a time the compan- 
ionship of his two evil comrades, suspecting 
aright that he had been deceived by them in 
regard to the lemonade. 

At home he was, to all appearances, the 
son and brother that he had been before he 
had gone into bad company ; and Nellie re- 
joiced in the change, dating it back, without 
being able to explain to herself the connect- 
ing link, to the day when he absented 
himself from Sunday-school. 

His father at times trembled for him, and 
1 7 


258 Amid the Shadows. 

earnest were the prayers which he offered 
in his behalf. He knew well, by experience, 
what it was to try to overcome the appetite 
for liquor, without help from above ; and, 
although he did not suspect that Luke had 
that to contend with, he yet felt that the 
same strength was needed to prevent the 
formation of such an appetite. 

Alas ! alas ! his father knew not, and Luke 
himself knew not, the force arrayed against 
him.. He had a Goliath for a foe — not, as 
the champion of the Philistines, defying him 
to open combat, but a Goliath lurking in 
dark and secret places, assailing him when 
unaware of his approach, striking at him from 
hidden ambush, and aiming his blows at 
the points where his defences were the 
weakest. 

And to meet this crafty Goliath, he came, 
as David, with no armor, save the righteous- 
ness of the cause he espoused ; but, unlike 


A Mother 's Legacy . . 


259 


David, without the weapons, wherewith God 
had bidden him slay the giant. 

Months passed, and Luke’s self-confidence 
grew apace. True, he had had no tempta- 
tion, but forgetting that, he felt sure that his 
sad experience would never be repeated. 
No ! no ! the scene at his mother’s grave was 
ever before him. That lemonade was good ; 
sometimes, when hot and thirsty, he could not 
help thinking about it; but no one need sup- 
pose that he was weak enough to taste it 
again, and so grieve his father, who seemed 
more kind and gentle than ever before. 

The summer passed, and all seemed so 
bright that Mr. Ray wondered at his own 
fears. He had thought to distinguish the 
shadow — no, no, it was but a passing cloud, 
darkening for a moment, but gone before the 
rest of the household had been conscious of 
the gloom. 

Luke was almost seventeen now, and he 


26 o 


Amid the Shadows. 


and his father began to talk of his leaving 
school, and doing something for himself; and 
while they were thus laying plans for the 
future, Luke’s Goliath, seeing that he had 
neither sling nor stone, aimed a blow that 
laid in the dust all the fair prospects, and 
bright plans, that had gladdened his father’s 
heart, and threw over him instead the pall 
of the shadow. 

It was a cold, raw night in the latter part 
of November. Luke had been sent by his 
father with a message to Joe Brady. He 
was out, and Luke waited for him before 
Mrs. Brady’s bright fire, enjoying a pleasant 
chat with her and Jim. Indeed so pleasant 
was it, and so much did he dread leaving it 
to take his long cold walk home, that even 
after Joe’s return, and the message had been 
delivered, he still lingered. 

It was nearly ten o’clock before he 
reluctantly bade good-bye to the cheery 


A Mother's Legacy . 261 

family and bright fire, and, buttoning his 
coat tightly around him, and pulling his cap 
over his ears, started on his lonely walk. 

The part of the city through which he 
passed seemed almost entirely deserted, and 
he whistled to keep himself company. The 
air grew colder and colder* and he was 
obliged to stop whistling and pull his scarf 
over his mouth. 

How he wished he was at home ! It was 
so dark and gloomy in the street. The 
houses were all closed for the night — no, not 
all, some distance before him, a bright red 
light threw a cheerful gleam across the cold 
pavement. He quickened his footsteps to 
reach it. — Yes, he might have guessed what 
it was — but, didn’t it look bright ? 

The light shone on glass decanters arrang- 
ed temptingly in the window, filled with — 
yes, it did look very much like the contents 
of the glass that his father had snatched from 


262 


Amid 4 he Shadows. 


his lips, that Sunday afternoon in the park. 
Would that have been as good as the lemon- 
ade ? Perhaps so. 

Suppose he — but no, what was he thinking 
of! Of course, he would not go in and try 
it ; yet even as he indignantly thrust aside 
the supposition, he put his hand in his pocket 
to feel whether he had money. 

He had a little of his own, and then, too, 
Joe Brady had given him some money to 
take to his father — wages which he had 
drawn for him, as Mr. Ray was not very 
well that day, and had not gone to his work. 

But what difference did it make to him 
about that money ? He scorned the idea 
that it was possible that he should touch that 
for any purpose. But why was he thinking 
about money, anyhow ? What difference did 
it make whether he had much or little ? He 
had no use for it now. He had only paused 
a moment at the window, and was resolutely 


A Mother y s Legacy. 


263 


turning away, when a gust of wind more 
cold and biting than any he had yet felt, 
seemed intent on tearing away his overcoat 
and cap. It even entered some crack in that 
tempting window, and the gas-light flickered, 
and the ruby poison sparkled, and seemed to 
dance like imps imprisoned in each bottle. 

Just then, two young men came up, and 
paused at the door. One, just in the act of 
turning the knob, laid his hand on the 
shoulder of the other, who hesitated, and 
would have passed on his way, saying : 

“ Come in a while, man. What’s your 
hurry ?” 

“ Why, the fact is, Derby,” answered the 
young man addressed, “ I promised my 
wife that I’d be home early, to-night.” 

“ Bother the wives, I say,” responded 
George Derby ; “ thank goodness, I haven’t 
got any wife to tell me what to do. Well, 
come in and get warm, anyhow, can’t you ? 


264 Amid the Shadows . 

Your wife wont object to that, will she ? 
Come in, I say, just for a minute, for its 
dreadful cold out here.” 

It was dreadful cold out there, and Luke 
felt it more than ever, as, his companion 
reluctantly yielding, George Derby opened 
the door, revealing, in that moment, a 
glimpse of light and warmth within. He 
closed it quickly, for the occupants of the 
room looked anything but pleased, as the 
cold air swept in — he closed it, and left Luke 
again alone in the cold and dark. 

But in the moment that the door had re- 
mained open, something besides the tempt- 
ing glimpse of comfort had been hurled by 
his Goliath against his unguarded senses. 
The hot air that rushed out was laden with a 
smell, that recalled again the untasted cup in 
the park. 

Involuntarily his fingers tightened over 
the money that he had held all this time in 


A Mother's Legacy. 265 

his hand. Yes, he had just enough for one 
glass ; he could certainly trust himself to 
take that. Anyhow that gentleman had told 
his companion to come in and get warm. 
He could do that, and make up his mind 
afterward about the drink. 

Cautiously he opened the door. It was 
not quite as hard now to enter as it had 
been when he had first gone in with Will 
and Ned. The remembrance of his childish 
search for his mother was growing fainter. 

Oh, how cheerful it was in there ! So 
much pleasanter than the street ! 

The two young men who had attracted 
his attention at the door, were sitting near 
the stove, and the one addressed as 
“ Derby,” was persuading his companion to 
take a sherry-cobbler. 

“Just one, Lawton,” he was saying. “ She 
wont suspect that. You surely ain’t weak 
enough to show one glass.” 


266 


Amid the Shadows . 


Lawton yielding, the liquor was brought. 
How good it looked ! how it sparkled ! The 
imps were dancing in the glasses, too ! 

Lawton’s refusal of George Derby’s sug- 
gestion, that their glasses be replenished, 
was firm and decided ; and the young men 
left the room, but not before Luke overheard 
the price that George Derby paid, as the 
change was handed to him. Had he 
enough ? He surreptitiously counted behind 
the table near which he was sitting, the 
small pieces that he held in his hand. Just 
enough exactly. He might surely try one 
glass, just one ; he could not take more if he 
would, for he had no more money. “ Except 
your father’s,” whispered the newly-awakened 
fiend ; but the suggestion was thrust away as 
an impossibility. 

Should he call for a sherry-cobbler ? He 
must have it. The fiend was rousing to 
renewed activity, and was insatiate. A 


A Mother ’ s Legacy. 


267 


waiter asked if he could serve him, and with- 
out a second thought, he called for a glass. 

He glanced toward the counter. A red 
light burned brightly there as it had over 
the entrance. Young man, beware! oh, 
beware ! It is the signal of danger ! 
Would you stand unconcerned on the track 
when the red light of the watchman warns 
you that the train is thundering down upon 
you, freighted with certain death ? None 
but a madman would despise the warning. 
Then, in the red light on the counter, read 
the danger signal. 

There is death ahead — -stop now — perhaps 
a single step may plunge you into a de- 
struction worse than that of the body. 
Beware ! oh, beware ! the red light is out ! 

Hold it high ! oh, ye watchman, ye under- 
shepherds whom God has commissioned to 
guide his flock ! Hold it high ! oh, ye who 
have been rescued from before the very 


268 


Amid the Shadows. 


wheels of the awful death laden train ! Hold 
it high ! oh, ye who hear from above the 
mighty call to “ rescue the perishing !” hold 
it high ! wave it ! shout aloud that there is 
danger where the red light is seen. Per- 
chance some poor, weak, tempted fellow- 
mortal, “ you may rescue, you may save.” 

“ Alas ! alas ! the red light was not read 
as a danger-signal by Luke. His attention 
was too soon absorbed in the sparkling con- 
tents of the glass brought to him. 

How delicious it was ! All scruples were 
silenced. Only this one glass — he would 
enjoy it to the uttermost, without any dread 
of consequences. 

But the glass was empty, and still he was 
unsatisfied. Oh ! if he could only have a 
little more ! His hand involuntarily sought 
his pocket — that pocket which held his 
fathers money. He took some pieces out — 
no, he could not do that, and instantly he 


A Mother 's Legacy . 269 

put them back, but his fingers still pressed 
them longingly — oh, if he only dared ! 

Almost hissing in his ear, the fiend whis- 
pered, “ there would be no harm in it — -just 
the price of one glass. You could easily tell 
your father that Joe Brady did not receive 
it all — you could very soon replace it, and 
make it all right.” 

Too willing was he to listen to the whisper, 
and, one more glass drunk, it required no 
repetition of the argument, to convince him 
that he could easily replace a little more, 
should he use that ; and midnight found him 
in the almost deserted room, half asleep, his 
head lying on the table before him. 

A rude grasp on his shoulder, with a rough 
shake, aroused him, and, scarcely conscious 
of what he was doing, he was thrust by the 
landlord into the street. The cold air par- 
tially sobered him, and, almost mechanically, 
he turned towards home. 


Amid the Shadows. 


270 

Mr. Ray became anxious as the evening- 
passed, and Luke did not return. He framed 
in his mind all sorts of excuses to account for 
his long stay ; still the remembrance of that 
Saturday night would intrude. 

Uncertainty became unbearable as the 
clock struck the midnight hour, and against 
the remonstrance of Nellie, who feared the 
effect of exposure to the cold night wind, after 
his day of illness, he left the house to hunt 
for his boy. 

How vividly came back to him the memory 
of other lonely midnight walks ! — and now 
the shadow seemed to dance before him, 
beckoning him onward. 

He had not gone far from home, before the 
stillness of the night was broken by the 
sound of loud singing. The voice struck 
terror to his heart — but no, it could not be. 
Some poor drunken creature was on his way 
home. It sounded like a boy’s voice — per- 


A Mother 's Legacy. 2 7 1 

haps he was going home to his poor waiting 
mother. 

Turning a corner, he saw, by the light of 
a street lamp, a sight that sickened him. 
A boy, nothing but a boy, leaning heavily 
against the lamp-post, tossing his hat high 
in the air, and, ever and anon, ‘bursting forth 
in a peal of loud, boisterous laughter. 

There was something strangely familiar in 
the voice, and yet it was so hoarse and un- 
natural, as to be scarcely distinguishable. 
Still some irresistible force seemed to lead 
him nearer and nearer. 

Just as he had approached within a few 
paces of the wretched boy, the gas-light fell 
full upon his face, revealing to the anxious 
father the features of Luke. 

He never knew how he had strength to 
lead him home, but he did it ; and Nellie, 
whose solicitude for her father would not let 
her rest, opened the door for them, and 


272 


Amid the Shadows. 


the shadow entered, and settled down in its 
old place on her heart, too. 

The morrow was a sad day for the whole 
family. Bitterly poor Luke mourned over 
his fall, and, confessing all to his father, was 
freely forgiven ; but even his father could not 
realize the full power of his temptation, and 
hoped by close watchfulness to ward off the 
threatening misery. 

Alas ! alas ! Luke’s promises of amendment 
were still made in his own strength, and that 
night was not the last on which Mr. Ray 
had to search for his boy. 

Luke firmly believed, on each recurring 
occasion, that he was honest in his promise 
that it should be the last time ; but he was 
utterly powerless to contend with his foe. 
He seemed to be led an unwilling victim to 
the altar whereon thousands of the youth of 
our land are yearly sacrificed ; and resist as 
he might, his Goliath still goaded him on. 



XII. 

“ Let us gather up the sunbeams. 

Lying all around our path ; 

Let us keep the wheat and roses, 

Casting out the thorns and chaff.” 

ROSES AND THORNS. 

ERTRUDE ARNOLD knew but 
little of what was transpiring in the 
home of John Ray. She noticed 
with regret that Luke’s place in her class 
was often vacant, and that even when present, 
he had a careless, half-defiant manner, that 
was unnatural to him, and which grieved her 
deeply. She called to see Nellie, but the 
young girl was evidently so averse to speak- 
18 



Amid the Shadows. 


274 

in g of the change in his conduct, that she 
made no effort to win her confidence. 

Her time was now almost entirely occupied 
by attention to her father, on whom the five 
years of weary waiting had fallen so heavily. 

Day after day, as he passed to and from 
his office, he had been still watching for his 
missing boy. When cold winter evenings 
came, he would look anxiously from the 
window, and as the years passed, and sus- 
pense wore away his mind, as well as his 
body, he would again and again open the 
hall door and gaze anxiously up and down 
the street ; then closing it with a weary sigh, 
he would return to his anxious daughter, with 
the almost invariable remark, “ Harry’s late 
to-night.” Won then from his sad thoughts, 
he would forget, for a time, his sorrow, until 
some association would recall again his great 
loss. _ 

No wonder that, during this winter, so 


Roses and Thorns . 


275 


saddened by the shadow at Lukes home, 
Gertrude had little time to devote to aught 
but this dear, sorrow-stricken father. 

He scarcely left the house now, save when 
she accompanied him ; and before the New 
Year came, he had failed so fast that he 
could go no further than the front door, 
where his constant watch was still kept. 

It was the last night of the old year, and 
Gertrude sat before the fire in her own room, 
busy with her thoughts. 

Mabel lay sleeping peacefully. She was 
but a child yet, and her sister’s care had 
shielded her life almost entirely from the 
great sorrow that had so clouded her own ; 
but now a blow seemed threatening them 
both, which she felt utterly powerless to ward 
off. 

She could not blind herself to the truth 
that her father was gradually giving way 
under this pressure of years of suspense. 


276 


Amid the Shadows. 


Only this evening, before he slept, he had 
asked her whether Harry had come in yet. 
She had easily turned his thoughts into an- 
other channel, but they had again reverted 
to the old topic ; and even in his sleep, she 
had heard him murmuring a prayer for his 
wandering boy. 

And where was that dear brother? All 
through these long years, no trace had been 
found of the erring one, and now another 
year was closing — even as she listened the 
midnight hour sounded, and a peal of merry 
bells ushered in the new-born year. 

What had this new year in store for her ? 
Should the same awful uncertainty shadow 
this as the past years ? 

And her father; could he bear another 
twelve months of waiting ? She would not 
answer the question to herself. Looking 
forward, through these coming months, she 
could not but discern a shadow, from which 


Roses and Thorns . 277 

they had been spared, since the grave hid 
from them the loved features of their gentle 
mother. 

She could not think more. She would not 
try to unfold the mysteries of the coming 
days. Enough for her, that He who loved 
her, had marked out her path, and, with the 
trust of a little child, she laid her hand in 
His, assured that, whether the path were 
choked with thorns, or strewed with flowers, 
One beside her, would Himself bear the 
sting of the thorns, or give her grace to 
gather of the flowers but those which wore 
the hues of heaven. 

Thus committing to the loving care of her 
heavenly Father, herself and all her loved 
ones, she lay down beside Mabel, and slept ; 
but in her dreams she was wandering with 
Harry, beside a flower-bordered stream. 

They were boy and girl again ; and, with 
childish glee, they gathered the roses, and 


278 


Amid the Shadows. 


cast them upon the sparkling water; but 
while the flowers that she threw, grew bright 
and blooming as they floated down the stream, 
Harry’s flowers, though as bright as hers, 
gathered from the same stem, withered ere 
they touched the water ; the petals drooped 
and fell, and naught remained but unsightly 
thorns. 

She woke and slept again. Again she 
dreamed, and now she was climbing with her 
brother, a steep mountain path. On her 
other side a presence, felt, though unseen, 
seemed ever present ; and, as they climbed, 
an invisible hand brushed from before her 
feet the rough stones, pressing aside the 
thorns and briars that she might pass in 
safety, while her poor brother, unaided, 
walked with painful steps through the thickly 
growing brambles ; and, as they reached the 
summit, she stood in the bright sunshine, 
while he stood in the deep shadow ; and 


Roses and Thorns. 279 

adown the mountain side, it was as she had 
somewhere read of a traveller in South 
America, who, looking back, saw his path 
marked out from the very mountain’s base, 
in the drooping leaves of the sensitive plants 
which his feet had pressed. 

Thus, as she and Harry looked back over 
their path, the track was easily discerned. 
Where she had walked, flowers had sprung. 
It was as if she had been scattering the seeds 
as she passed along, and some mighty power 
had bidden them spring up and bud ; but the 
path her brother had trodden, was stained 
with the blood pressed by the thorns and 
sharp stones from his torn feet. Even the 
grass was withered, as though his very pass- 
ing had scorched its roots ; and turning 
towards him, she saw that in place of the 
flowers, which she had gathered, his hand 
was bleeding from the briars and thistles 
which he held in his grasp ; but he looked 


280 


Amid the Shadows . 


at the mementoes of her walk, and his own 
treasures seemed to lose their worth ; and 
flinging them from him, he begged her to 
share her flowers with him. The shadow 
resting on him, seemed to lift, and, in its 
place, the sunshine spread over him, and 
with a glad song of thanksgiving, she awoke 
to find the real sunshine streaming in at the 
window, and little Mabel laughingly kissing 
her, and wishing her a “ Happy New Year.” 




XIII. • 

HOME FROM SCHOOL. 

“ My sin is ever before me.” — jPs. li. 3. 

EW YEAR’S eve all over the 
great city ! Merry bells seemed 
impatient to peal forth their notes 
of joy, and the old clock in the tallest church 
tower, to hurry its “tick, tick,” eager to 
clasp its hands for the last time in the old 
year. 

An air of expectancy and waiting pervaded 
streets as well as homes. Church goers gave 
a hurried passing glance at the old clock, and 
hastened on to take their places among those 
who were seeking Gods blessing upon the 



282 


Amid the Shadows . 


very earliest hours of the New Year. 

Around firesides were gathered loved 
ones, of several generations, listening for the 
striking of the midnight hour ; and the old 
grandfather, looking around on his children, 
and children’s children, wondered whether the 
death of the coming year would find him in 
the spot where he was celebrating its birth, or 
whether, (and his homesick heart bounded at 
the very thought,) the New Year had in store 
for him the joys of heaven ; and the young 
mother, clasping to her heart a treasure that 
the dying year had bestowed, prayed that no 
shadow of a baby’s grave might fall across 
her path during these days that were coming, 
laden with she knew not what. 

Outside, the storm raged, and the snow, 
falling silently, was fast obliterating the foot- 
prints of the past, and making smooth paths 
for the footsteps that were coming. 

Cold and dreary it was in the street, in 


Home from School . 


283 


contrast with the light that shone from the 
windows of the happy homes. The home- 
less ones gazed jealously at the comfort 
within, and, hugging their rags around .them, 
sighed over their own joyless lives. What 
was the new year to them, but another 
twelvemonth of fighting with want and 
misery ? 

And through these streets, so cold and 
dreary, jostled by the few hurrying passers-by, 
moved a man who might have been young, 
and yet whose stooping gait betokened the 
weight of many years. 

Even in the gloom of the night, there was 
discernible about him the air of one ever try- 
ing to escape some threatening foe. He 
shrank into the shadow if a quick footstep 
approached, and hurried past dark alley-ways, 
looking back over his shoulder as though 
expecting to be pursued. 

As he passed a street lamp, its bright light 


284 Amid the Shadows. 

falling on his face, revealed features pale and 
haggard ; it might have been from want, or, 
perchance, the hunted feeling was wearing 
away his life. 

He was cold and hungry, but he dared not 
make his wants known. He had fought 
with hunger before, and could fight with it 
again — but, oh, that hunted feeling, it was 
unbearable ! It had followed him for 'years, 
now ; had followed him when wide prairies 
had rolled between him and his boyhoods 
home. It had made a coward of him, amid 
scenes, in which, under other circumstances, 
he would have taken intense delight. It 
had haunted him amid the towering moun- 
tains of the west — in his waking moments, 
turning the mighty cliffs into gloomy prison 
walls, and, in his dreams, fastening to his 
wrists a felons irons. 

Even when comparative prosperity had, 
at times, smiled upon him, the gaunt spectre 


Home from School. 285 

had risen in some new form, driving him 
from new-made friends, if from word or look 
he could imagine his secret discovered. 

Five long weary years, that ghost of his 
misdeeds had haunted him — it had rested 
ever as a heavy burden upon him, and 
nowhere could he find a moment’s rest, ex- 
cept when under the influence of the very 
fiend which had urged him to commit the 
crime. 

And now he could bear it no longer. 
From the gold-laden hills of Colorado, he 
had come back to confess his sin, and bear 
its punishment ; feeling that, no matter how 
heavy that might be, it would be lighter than 
the weight he was bearing. 

But now, amid familiar scenes, the burden 
was growing heavier than ever. He would 
confess all in the morning — but would the 
morning ever come ? 

Hark ! the clock strikes twelve ; and, with 


286 


Amid the Shadows . 


each stroke, a hundred bells peal forth an 
echo. The New Year is born ! 

The New Year ! Yes, he could well re- 
member how, as a boy, he had welcomed 
each new year as though freighted with 
treasures of untold worth. But, what had 
this new year in store for him ? Nothing but 
a prison cell — but, (and there was relief in 
the very thought), a conscience unburdened 
of its load. 

But weary hours must pass yet before the 
dawn of morning. Where should he go ? 
Habit whispered that there was comfort and 
forgetfulness inside the saloon whose lights 
gleamed across the snow-covered pavement. 
Would he be welcomed there ? There had 
been a time when the most comfortable seat 
in the room would have been vacated at his 
approach ; but, now ? — it was different now. 
Once he was the son of wealth, now he was 
a miserable outcast. 


Home from School. 287 

But, oh, if he could only rest and warm 
himself a little while ! Above all, if he could 
only satisfy that intolerable thirst that was 
consuming him, and thus for a while drown 
in forgetfulness the upbraidings of his ever 
wakeful conscience. He must have a glass 
to-night. He had not been able to satisfy 
his thirst for several days ; and, once within 
the prison walls, such a luxury would be 
denied him. 

He must have it ! — but how ? He paused 
near the door of the saloon, and with eager 
fingers searched his empty pockets. One 
after another he even turned inside out, but 
in vain — not one cent, and there was nothing 
of value there, upon which he might hope to 
raise a penny. Nothing? His fingers 
touched something hard in his vest pocket. 
Could he? Hunger had not driven him to 
that yet, but, oh ! he must have a glass of 
liquor. 


288 


Amid the Shadows . 


He need not sell it — he might redeem it 
some time, and reluctantly he drew forth a 
gold locket. It rested in his hand, and, 
almost reverently he turned it over with his 
trembling fingers. 

Should he open it ? The bright glare of 
the gas-lights in the window shone full upon 
it. He could read the words engraved there, 
“ Harry — from Gertrude.” 

How well he remembered how he prized 
it, when first his sister gave it to him. It 
was on the first New Year that the snow had 
rested upon their mother’s grave. He could 
recall every little circumstance connected with 
it. Little had he then thought that he should 
ever, for an instant, entertain a thought of 
parting with it. 

Involuntarily he touched the spring — the 
locket opened, and the gentle face of his 
mother looked up at him, lit by the glare of 
the tavern light. 


Home from School. 


289 


He stood transfixed, gazing almost breath- 
lessly at the pictured features, upon which he 
had not dared to look, during these five long, 
sinful years. 

As he looked, he was a boy again, playing 
beside his mother’s knee, in the nursery, 
listening to her sweet voice, as she told him 
tales, which, though oft repeated, ne’er grew 
old. 

Again, he was a merry school-boy, laugh- 
ing joyfully with the noisiest, but ever, when 
within the shelter of home, subdued to gen- 
tleness by the influence of the mother he 
almost worshipped. 

Again, he was approaching manhood, and, 
with jealous anxiety, he became conscious, 
though reluctant to acknowledge, it, even 
to himself, that Another was claiming his 
mother ; and the thought that, at some fu- 
ture time, he must live without her, almost 
maddened him. 


290 


Amid the Shadows . 


A stranger to the faith that shone brighter 
and brighter from the paling face, dearer 
than ever, now that something, (he would not 
permit himself to give it a name), seemed 
gradually rising between them, a feeling of 
rebellion arose in his heart ; and as, day by 
day, his loved one seemed passing beyond 
his reach, he turned further and further from 
God, who, he felt, was thus cruelly afflicting 
him. 

And it came, at last ! Hide it from him- 
self as he might, — refuse to believe it as he 
would, still it came ; and with a heart full of 
bitter feelings toward Him who was steal- 
ing from him the idol of his boy-life, he had 
watched the pale face grow paler, the white 
lips whiter, the weak voice weaker ; and 
when she had breathed a prayer for him, and 
with chilling lips had exacted a promise that 
he would meet her in heaven, he gave that 
promise, without a thought of keeping it, 


Home from School. 291 

only lest his refusal might cast a shade over 
that pallid face ; but all the while, in his 
inmost heart, he felt that, save for her pres- 
ence, heaven would be no heaven for him. 
He had no love for Him, who, to his mother, 
made the joy of heaven. 

He had seen her die. He had touched 
the cold lips with his, but for the first time 
he felt no answering kiss — he had clasped the 
icy hand ; but, for the first time, the cold 
fingers lay passive in his ; no returning pres- 
sure spoke of a mother’s love for her boy. 

She had gone ! — he had seen her in all her 
purity lying amid the flowers in the coffin. 
He had seen the lid closed over her, and he 
knew it was forever. He had seen the coffin 
lowered into the grave, and had heard the 
pitiless clods fall upon it. 

He had turned away, feeling that in the 
wide, wide world, he should never know 
another love like hers. His heart was 


292 


Amid the Shadows . 


emptied of its idol, and in its place rose up a 
bitter enmity against Him, who, as he 
thought, with an unloving hand, had snatched 
his best loved from him. 

None dreamed of the depth of his sorrow. 
His father and sister felt the loss most keenly 
themselves, but had One to comfort them 
who, they knew, does not willingly afflict. 

So he had lived on, as it were, alone, hid- 
ing the bitterness of his grief beneath a mask 
of lightness and frivolity, turning away from 
all good influences, yielding himself a willing 
slave to sin, because of the enmity he felt 
toward Him who had only claimed His own. 
All these paths he retraced, as he stood 
gazing on the features, that, to his imagina- 
tion, were animated with life. 

The gentle, loving eyes seemed to be 
looking into his very soul — the closed lips 
seemed to whisper to him, and plead with 
him. He turned once desperately to enter 


Home from School. 


293 


the saloon, to put an end to these heart- 
breaking reminiscences, but the soft touch 
of an unseen hand seemed to hold him back. 

Many a time during these weary years, the 
echo of the last words that he had heard his 
father speak : “ Remember, Harry, that your 
mother is watching you,” had sounded in his 
ears ; but never, as now, had he realized his 
mother’s presence. 

Returning the closed locket to its hiding 
place, but still with his fingers lovingly clasp- 
ing it, he turned from the door of the saloon 
— but where, oh ! where should he go ? 

An uncontrollable desire seized him to 
look once more at the home where a mother’s 
love had overshadowed him, before yielding 
himself to the punishment he so well de- 
served. 

He passed from street to street until fami- 
liar spots, the landmarks of his boyhood days, 
clustered thickly around him. 


294 Amid the Shadows. 

Then, as he passed the deep shadow of a 
sheltered doorway, he shuddered — it was in 
that corner that he had shrunk on that dark 
never-to-be-forgotten night, when approach- 
ing footsteps bade him dread, even then, the 
hand of avenging justice. The footsteps had 
paused just there, and in the dim light he had 
discerned the well-known form of his father. 

He had easily guessed what errand had 
called him forth on such a dismal night, and, 
sheltered by the storm, he had stealthily 
followed him in his long, vain search. 

He had seen him ascend the steps, and, as 
his father turned suddenly, he had thought 
himself discovered ; but crouching close down 
behind an area door, he had seen his father 
turn with a disappointed look, and enter the 
house from which he was self-banished. 

Again he drew near home. He knew 
each room. A light shone from his father’s 
window, and he watched it, until, as the sun 


Home from School. 295 

rose bright in the eastern sky, it was ex- 
tinguished. 

He could not linger much longer; but, ere 
he left, could he not catch a glimpse of some 
loved face ? 

A curtain was drawn — he knew the room ; 
the one occupied by Gertrude and Mabel ; 
and a gentle face — his sister’s face — but now, 
in the distance, so like his far-off mother’s, 
looked down for an instant, pitifully, upon 
the poor homeless wretch, who, on this New 
Year morn, skulked guiltily along on the 
opposite side of the street, bearing no re- 
semblance to the brother who had been with 
her in her dreams, and for whom, even now, 
she was breathing a prayer to heaven. 

It was only for an instant she looked ; then 
she suddenly left the window, and he became 
conscious that the house was astir with some 
unusual confusion. There was hurrying past 
the windows, sudden opening of doors, and, 


296 Amid the Shadows . 

in her hurry, a servant, hastening for aid, 
rushed out of the front door, leaving it slightly 
ajar. 

The winter wind forced it open, and with 
a sudden impulse, Harry crossed the street, 
and entered unperceived. Where should he 
go ? How escape detection ? 

All the hurrying seemed toward his father’s 
room ; and, knowing so well the secrets of 
the house, he, with little difficulty, succeeded 
in eluding observation, and concealing him- 
self in the deep shadow of a heavily-curtained 
window in an adjoining apartment, where, 
though unseen, he could watch all that 
passed there. 

What could it mean ? His heart sank 
within him. Those gray hairs that rested 
almost lifelessly upon the pillow, were 
surely not his father’s ! Gertrude — he could 
without difficulty recognize her, for he had 
caught that moment’s glimpse at the window, 


Home from School. 297 

— leaned, with tearful eyes, over the father to 
whom she had supplied the place which he 
should have occupied. Mabel he would not 
have known ; for she had outgrown her baby- 
hood. 

But his father ! oh, his father ! how 
changed he was ! He seemed to revive 
from the temporary stupor that had so 
alarmed the family, and, looking toward 
Gertrude, whispered in accents loud enough 
to be audible to the strained ears of his son, 
“ Hasn’t he come yet ? I thought I heard 
the door opened. It is time for school to be 
out, isn’t it ? Let me go and look for him 
and, with his little remaining strength, the 
old man essayed to rise from his bed ; but 
his daughter’s hand restrained him, and her 
gentle voice, so like their mother’s, but now, 
almost choked with tears, soothed him with 
an assurance that Harry would come to him, 
as soon as he returned from school. 


2 98 Amid the Shadows . 

Quieted for the moment, he slumbered 
again, but only for a little while. Then 
looking up again, he repeated the old 
question : 

“ Hasn’t Harry come in yet ? He is late. 
I want to see my boy so nluch. ,, 

Each time the tearful voice of Gertrude 
would soothe his wanderings, but only that 
the question might be repeated in a voice 
growing weaker and weaker as the moments 
passed. 

Poor Harry listened eagerly. Was it 
possible that his father was speaking of him ? 
He must, long ere this, have known what a 
sin he had committed against him, and yet 
he loved him still ! 

He must see his face more clearly ! All 
the attendants had left the room ; no one 
remained save his father, and his sisters, 
watching him so anxiously. 

With noiseless tread, he drew nearer the 


Home from School. 


299 


door. He could hear his fathers labored 
breathing, and his own heart beat so loud 
that he fancied they must hear it. 

Again that weary wandering — this time 
the voice was like that of a fretful child. 

“Why doesn’t he come? I have waited 
for him so long. I cannot wait much longer. 
Hark ! don’t I hear him ? Isn’t that his 
merry laugh ? Open the door, my daughter, 
that I may listen ; I am too tired to go and 
meet him, but I want my boy so much.” 

Harry could bear it no longer. He feared 
lest he might alarm his sisters, but he must 
risk all. With a whispered, “Father! oh, 
father !” he left his hiding place, and throw- 
ing himself on his knees beside the bed, 
buried his face in the pillow. 

Mabel could but half suppress a shriek of 
terror, and Gertrude started with affright; 
but, instantly recovering herself, she hastily 
locked the door, that no one might witness 


300 


Amid the Shadows . 


the prodigal’s return. For her father’s sake, 
she forced herself to be calm ; and feeling 
that this was no time for explanations, or 
even for a question as to the manner in 
which he had reached the room unperceived, 
she clasped to her heart, the poor, friendless 
one, whom, but a few minutes ago, she had 
watched with pitying eyes, wandering home- 
less and forlorn in the street ; and the past 
five weary years seemed to dwindle away, 
into nothingness. 

His father showed no surprise at his 
appearance. He had been waiting and 
watching for him, and seemed not to notice 
that, in place of the joyous, merry boy for 
whom he looked, there was a miserable sin- 
blighted man. No matter; it was his boy — 
his Harry, and^ in his eyes, he was the boy 
of years ago. 

Gertrude, ever accustomed to think of oth- 
ers before herself, quietly left the room, and 


Home from School . 


301 


merely explaining to the servants, that her 
brother had returned after a long absence, 
ordered breakfast for him. 

Then, entering his room — the room that, 
unused, had waited all these long years for 
its owner, she laid, ready for use, clothes, that 
he might at once resume the appearance of 
the son of the house. Before returning to 
her father’s room, she knelt beside the 
bed — knelt where she had asked for strength 
that first morning of his absence, and lifted 
up her heart in a prayer of thanksgiving that 
the lost was found. 

Harry had difficulty in gaining his father’s 
permission to leave him long enough to put 
on the clothes which Gertrude’s thoughtful- 
ness had provided, and his breakfast was 
eaten beside his father’s bed. The sick man 
was perfectly satisfied as long as he was near 
him ; but if he left, but for a moment, the weary 
wondering at his long absence began afresh. 


3°2 


Amid the Shadows. 


Not one word of reproach ever passed his 
lips. Once or twice, when alone with him, 
Harry tried to ask his forgiveness ; but the 
kind eyes were turned on him with a look of 
surprise — the weary years of sorrow were all 
blotted from his memory, and his son had 
returned to him as the loving, gentle boy, 
whose slightest departure from the path of 
right was quickly checked by a glance of his 
mother’s eye. 

Harry saw that it was worse than useless 
to try to burden his memory with the sorrow 
that had well-nigh broken his heart, so he 
forbore mentioning the subject again. 

To Gertrude he explained the circum- 
stances of his return, but the cause of his 
self- exile was never alluded to by either. 

To Mabel he was almost a stranger. 
There had been to her a something of mystery 
about his absence, and now, his return in this 
singular manner, together with his appear- 


Home from School. 


303 


ance, so unlike what she had remembered, 
but deepened the air of mystery in which her 
imagination had clothed him ; and, to her 
childish fancy, rendered him an object of 
wonder. 

Thus, day after day, these three watched 
the ebbing tide of their father’s life. He 
was happy now ; his boy had come home 
from school — yes, from a school where the 
schoolmaster ruled with a rod of iron — 
where the lessons were want, misery, and an 
accusing conscience ! 




XIV. 

THE CANCELLED CHECK. 

“ Blot out my transgressions.” — Ps. li. I. 

EEKS lengthened into months, and 
still the sisters and brother watched 
beside their father. His son’s 
return had renewed his strength — his long 
watching and waiting ended, he was permitted 
to linger at the threshold a little longer, that 
he might for a while enjoy the long looked- 
for happiness, ere was severed once again — 
and this time so that earth could never 
reunite the links — the chain which had so 
nearly fallen asunder, when sin, not death, 
had shaken it. 



The Cancelled Check. 305 

At times, he rallied, and his children hoped 
that yet again he might take his accustomed 
place among them ; but it was only for a 
little while, (and even then he was not as 
he once was ;) then he would relapse into 
a state of childish helplessness, when only 
Harry’s continual presence would satisfy 
him. 

Spring came, yet still they tended him, 
and humored his wandering fancies. Ger- 
trude’s love and devotion made her an untir- 
ing nurse ; but to Harry this close confine- 
ment to his father’s room, and listening again 
and again to his querulous complainings, 
if he absented himself but a few hours, 
became irksome. 

Besides, on his conscience still rested the 
burden which had been almost forgotten 
under the excitement of his home-coming. 
Now it returned with ten-fold power. He 
could not speak of it to his sister ; neither by 
20 


306 Amid the Shadows. 

word nor look had she ever intimated her 
knowledge of his crime. 

His father ignored the dark days of his 
life, and lived but in the long ago past ; 
the quiet childish happiness of the present 
making any explanation impossible. Yet 
over him still hung the never-forgotten, ever- 
watched-for sword of the avenger. 

There were times, when, look where he 
might, the name of “ forger,” seemed to meet 
him. His dreams were full of it, and in the 
lonely night hours, when watching by his 
father’s bed, he lived over and over again 
that night when he yielded to the tempter, 
until his thoughts maddened him. 

In the early dawn, after his father had 
fallen into a quiet sleep, he would often go 
into the street, hoping that the hum of the 
waking city might bring relief to his over- 
strained nerves ; but nature seemed but 
waking up to a knowledge of his guilt. To 


The Cancelled Check . 307 

his excited imagination, it seemed as if the 
first morning thought of each one in that 
great city, was that Harry Arnold the forger 
was within reach ; and, as the noise and 
bustle grew louder and louder, it was but out- 
raged justice clamoring for vengeance. 

There was relief nowhere. — Nowhere ? 
There was one thing that had brought for- 
getfulness before, and would bring it again ; 
and too often, on returning to his father’s 
room, he knew, by Gertrude’s manner, 
that she suspected where he had spent the 
few minutes of his absence ; and she herself 
became painfully conscious, that the shadow 
had not lifted, when Harry’s return had 
ended her father’s weary months of waiting. 

Under these circumstances is it to be 
wondered at, that the moral atmosphere of 
home was distasteful to him as ever ? The 
pleasure of reunion with those he loved, — of 
living again where familiar looks and voices 


3°8 


Amid the Shadows. 


recalled the mother of his boyhood, had 
seemed fully satisfying at first, but his heart 
was not at home amid such scenes. 

He could not but see that, as formerly, his 
sisters joys were not his. He forbore 
expressing his decided opposition, as he had 
once done, but none the less did his heart 
rebel. 

Once, when Gertrude thought he slumbered 
beside their fathers bed, she threw herself 
on her knees, and he heard her pray for the 
brother, whose heart she begged might be 
given to the Saviour. She prayed that his 
soul might be troubled, and that peace might 
never be his until he found it at the foot of 
the cross. 

He wondered at the prayer. Could she 
suspect that his soul was even now burdened ? 
Why, it was already well-nigh crushed be- 
neath its load. And would she pray that 
he might never find peace ? 


The Cancelled Check. 309 

He could not understand it, and yet, 
neither by word nor motion, would he 
acknowledge that he had listened to her 
supplication ; but when next he caught her 
eyes fixed upon him, they had in them such 
a look as he might dream his dead mother’s 
glorified countenance might wear, if from 
her heaven-home, she could look down upon 
her sinful boy. 

Before the roses had bloomed on their 
mother’s grave, it became evident that the 
creeping vines upon it, would find another 
mound over which to throw their clinging 
tendrils. 

Gertrude had hoped much from the balmy 
Spring weather, but it did not bring the 
strength she had expected to their dear 
invalid. 

As the monotony of the sick room changed 
to the anxiety of the death-chamber, Harry 
forgot all else in his real love for his dying 


3 IO 


Amid the Shadows. 


father. The comfort that his presence 
afforded, he gave unasked. 

He could not but suspect that his absence, 
and, he feared, the knowledge of the crime 
that had sent him from home, had whitened 
the dear head that now, at times, found rest 
only when leaning upon his bosom — and yet 
he could not find one moment when his 
father would listen to his confession, and 
grant him forgiveness. 

Would the time never come ? Must he 
see those eyes close, as his mothers had 
closed — must he see those lips grow cold, as 
his mother’s had grown cold, without looking 
or speaking a word of forgiveness to him ? 
And he, — what had he then to look forward 
to ? A life of merited punishment, burdened 
anew by the thought that his father had 
died, without saying, “ I forgive you.” 

These thoughts passed again and again 


The Cancelled Check. 


3 1 1 

through his mind, as he watched one night, 
alone, beside his fathers bed. 

He had persuaded Gertrude to lie down 
on the lounge, promising to call her, if any 
change took place ; and, even though the 
gray dawn was breaking in the east, he 
would not disturb her, knowing well that 
her weary body, as well as her anxious heart, 
needed rest. 

It was very still, as he raised the curtain, 
and looked out into the street. There was 
yet no sign of life. 

He had stood at the window but a mo- 
ment, when a slight movement recalled him 
hurriedly to his father’s side. 

One glance, as he approached the bed, 
was sufficient to convince him that the wan- 
dering mind had returned, if but for a mo- 
ment, to its rightful throne. His father’s 
eyes had in them a light, unseen there for 
many months ; and he purposely avoided 


3 1 2 


Amid the Shadows. 


standing where his father might see him, 
lest his presence might startle him. 

Turning wearily upon the pillow, the sick 
man called feebly, “ Gertrude.” 

Weak as was the voice, it was sufficient 
to awaken his daughter, who was instantly 
beside him. The glance she gave Harry, 
who still stood in the shadow, told him that 
she also noticed the change. 

“ My daughter,” said the feeble voice, “I 
have had a long dream. I thought Harry 
had come back to us, but I waken and miss 
him. Daughter, I feel that my Saviour is 
calling me home. I shall see my boy there, 
but I hoped I should have seen him here.” 

“Father,” commenced Gertrude; but, 
pressing with his already chilling hand, the 
hand she had placed in his, he continued : 

“ Don’t interrupt me, my daughter. There 
is one thing I must do at once, or it may be 
too late. Hand me a pocket-book that you 


The Cancelled Check. 313 

will find in the private drawer of my desk. 
Open it, my daughter,” — as she hurriedly 
obeyed his command — “ hand me the folded 
paper in it I must destroy it with my own 
hands. See,” — as with a great effort his 
stiffening fingers unfolded it, “ the check is 
cancelled — tell him so. Tell him no one 
knew of it but you and me. I acknowledged 
the signature, and it was cancelled long 
ago.” 

Harry could contain himself no longer. 
With a sob of relief, that no one could under- 
stand, save one who had felt, as he had done, 
weighed down by a burden ; and, with him, 
now felt that burden instantly removed, he 
cast himself on his knees beside the bed. 

“ Father, oh ! father,” he cried, “ forgive 
me, oh, forgive me !” 

Gertrude started — she feared the excite- 
ment might hasten her fathers death ; but, 
with an almost supernatural calmness, he 


3H 


Amid the Shadows. 


fondly turned his eyes upon his son, and 
whispered, 

“ Then, it wasn’t all a dream !” 

“No, father, I am here — your Harry. 
Oh ! forgive me.” 

“See, Harry,” said the weakening voice, 
look at it, yourself — the check is cancelled. 
And now, bring me a match, Gertrude — no, 
no, let me hold it ; I must do it — see, it 
burns. Take it now,” as the paper smoul- 
dered almost to the tips of his fingers. “ My 
son, it is all past — all cancelled.” 

The excitement and effort together had 
been too great for his little strength, and he 
sank back exhausted. Harry and Gertrude, 
and Mabel, too, whom Gertrude had called 
after the burning of the check, bent anxiously 
over him. Oh, what if he should never 
speak to them again ! 

To Harry, especially, these were moments 
of terrible suspense. The check was can- 


The Cancelled Check. 315 

celled — all evidence against him destroyed, 
but, his thoughts all fixed upon one subject. 
His father had not, in words, granted the 
forgiveness that his loving looks implied. 

Oh ! that the hand of the death-angel 
might be stayed for a little while, that the 
burden might be all gone ! 

For the first time in many years, he 
breathed an earnest prayer, — that his father 
might speak again. 

As if in answer to his unspoken petition, 
with a sigh of weariness, as though, just on 
the border of the promised land, he had been 
turned back for a little while, to earth, his 
father opened his eyes, and fixed them kindly 
on his son. Waiting not, lest he might be 
too late, Harry whispered, 

“ Father, dear father, say you forgive me.” 

“ Harry, my dear son,” faltered the failing 
voice, “ as my Heavenly Father has forgiven 
me, for the sake of His dear Son, who ‘ blot- 


3 16 


Amid the Shadows. 


ted out the hand-writing of ordinances that 
was against us, which was contrary to us, 
and took it out of the way, nailing it to His 
cross/ so have I forgiven you. God bless 
you, my boy. Remember that I go to join 
your mother among the redeemed ones, and, 
together, we will wait and watch for the 
children that God has given us.” 

He rested a little, and then, calling his 
daughters, he gave them a dying father’s 
blessing, and committed them to the kind 
care of the God of the fatherless. 

He lay quiet upon his pillow, and his 
children hushed their weeping lest his last 
moments might be disturbed. His lips moved 
in prayer, and the smile that lit up his pallid 
face, was as that of an angel. Once he 
opened his eyes and whispered, “ Harry,” 
and, when his son leaned close to catch the 
whisper from his lips, with effort he formed 
the words. 


The Cancelled Check. 3 1 7 

“ The check is cancelled — all is blotted 
out.” 

Thus they watched him, as the eastern 
sky grew rosy, and the sun rose in its 
majesty, and a new day began on earth. 
They watched him until the sunshine, creep- 
ing in, threw its beams across the bed, and 
rested on the bowed head of Harry. Ger- 
trude saw it, and the remembrance of her 
dream flashed across her mind — he was 
standing in the sunshine. 

The sunshine rested on the pale face upon 
the pillow, illumining it with a halo of glory, 
— lighting it up with transcendent beauty. 
The lips moved, and with a triumphant shout 
of, “ glory — glory,” the ransomed spirit took 
its flight from the land where there are 
shadows as well as sunshine, into that land 
where, “ They need no candle, neither light 
of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them 
light, and they shall reign for ever and ever.” 


\ 



XV. 

ALL BLOTTED OUT. 

“1, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions.” — 
Is. xliii. 25. 

“ And though the stripes I send to bring him home 
Should serve to drive him farther from my breast. 

Still he is mine — I loved him from the first. 

He has no right, no home, but in my love ; 

Though earth and hell combined against him rise, 

I’m bound to rescue him, for he is mine.” 

“ The Intercessor^ 

“ My sin — oh, the bliss of this glorious thought — 

My sin — not in part, but the whole, 

Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more, 

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, oh, my soul.” 


T was all over ! — the weary days 
before the funeral, never forgotten 
if once experienced — days when 
the waking thought of each morning is, “ one 
day less to have our dear one with us,” — 



A ll Blotted Out. 


3i9 


when the looking forward to the inevitable 
moment becomes so unbearable that we 
almost long for it to come that it may the 
sooner be past — then the day when we look 
for the last time on the loved features, so 
like life that we fancy the gentle eyes will 
open once more, and the kind lips utter some 
word of love, and we go away, and come 
again for one more look, — we cannot give it 
up yet — it is but clay, but oh, the features 
are those we have loved so long ; the hands 
are the same that have led our childish feet 
over the rough places of life, and they are so 
still now — cold and still, but they are the 
same hands yet. 

Again we take a last look, and we kiss 
again the cold, unanswering lips, and we 
touch again the icy cheek, and we watch 
again breathless, almost fancying that the 
eyelids quiver, that the breast heaves — but 
still ! — still ! — still ! — oh, so still ! — not even 


320 


Amid the Shadows. 


one more heart-throb. We turn away, 
oppressed by the unfathomable stillness — we 
will turn and look again ; but in that moment 
the coffin -lid is closed, — closed, and long for 
it as we may, never, never can we look on 
those features again. In our waking 
moments, there will be times when an uncon- 
trollable desire comes to catch a glimpse of 
the hidden face, — memory for an instant 
seems to recall each outline — but we look, 
and our looking melts it away into nothing- 
ness. In our dreams we shall meet again 
our loved one, and waking, we shall have a 
consciousness of having been in the longed 
for presence, but all is in a shadow. Never! 
— never ! — never ! until we meet before the 
great white throne ! 

It was all over ! The carriage stopped be- 
fore Judge Arnold’s house, now his no longer, 
and Harry and his sisters entered the door 
— that door so often opened by the father 


A l l Blotted Out. 


321 


watching for the feet that never came, until 
he was a- weary with the waiting ; and the 
father lay in his narrow grave, down by the 
river’s brink, where the sunshine and the 
rain would be henceforth alike to the quiet 
sleeper under the sod. 

How lonely the rooms felt ! Who was 
missing? During these few long days no 
living presence but theirs had occupied them ! 
No, none but theirs ; but in the parlor, look- 
ing now so vacant, had lain, what had been 
to them, once, the impersonation of home. 
Strangers might call it, '“it,” but to them 
there had been a personality about it, to the 
very last, and would be still, though they 
knew that the empty casket only, lay in the 
quiet grave — the father they had loved, was 
singing the song of the redeemed in the 
spirit-land. 

As they gathered in the quiet sitting-room, 
at the calm twilight hour, the thoughts of 
21 


322 


Amid the Shadows. 


each were busy with memories of the past. 
To Mabel there were nothing but happy 
reminiscences. She had been her father’s 
pet and plaything ; and, almost from baby- 
hood, it had been her delight to run to open 
the front door, as soon as she heard his key 
in the lock, that she might have the first kiss ; 
and the cares of the outside world were all 
forgotten, when, with his baby on his shoul- 
der, the happy father entered the cheerful 
sitting-room. 

She had been conscious of the sadness that 
came into his life when Harry went away ; 
but when with her, he had, until lately, 
striven to throw off his burden. 

So Mabel mourned for her father with the 
love of a doting child. Over and over again, 
did Gertrude have to call her thoughts away 
from the silent grave, into which she had 
seen him lowered, to his bright home of in- 
conceivable happiness ; and the sobbing child 


All Blotted Out. 


323 


would dry her tears while her sister talked, 
but they would burst forth afresh, when 
memory painted anew the scene she had just 
witnessed ; and as a storm gathered in the 
distance, and, approaching nearer and nearer, 
rolled its thunder peals, and flashed its forked 
lightning, the poor child shuddered, as she 
thought of the rain beating pitilessly upon 
that lonely, new-made grave, almost fancy- 
ing that the death-slumbers of their loved one 
might be disturbed. 

Gertrude felt the loss keenly — not as she 
might have done had her father been taken 
away when she had leaned upon him, but 
more as a mother feels the loss of a little 
one, who has for years been a source of 
solicitude and care. 

For the last few years, they had, as it 
were, changed places. He had depended 
upon her so entirely, and her time had been 
so fully occupied in caring for him, that now 


324 Amid the Shadows. 

her work seemed taken from her, and, but 
for her natural thoughtfulness for others, she 
would fain have sat down, with weary hands 
laid across her lap. 

And yet, from the moment her father 
drew his last breath, she had, in a measure, 
forgotten the care she had taken of him. 
The last moments of his life, when he had 
assumed again his place, had reinstated 
him in her heart, as the father of years 
agone. It was her father whom she had 
lost ; not a childish dependent father, but he, 
who had always been to her the impersona- 
tion of everything good and noble. 

She had nothing with which to reproach 
herself, in the devotion that she had ever 
shown him, and yet her sensitive conscience 
found, here and there through life, some 
moments, when by word or look, she feared 
she had wounded his gentle spirit. 

But, Harry, oh ! what had he to remem- 


A l l Blotted Out. 


325 


ber ? True, his father had forgiven him 
fully and freely, but could he ever forgive 
himself, or ever forget that he had hastened 
his steps to the grave ? 

There was not now resting upon him the 
ignominy and reproach that had at times 
rendered life itself a burden. No, his father, 
by acknowledging the signature, had re- 
moved from him every shadow of guilt in 
the eye of the law. 

Henceforth he could walk through the 
world a free man — not, as heretofore, ex- 
pecting, at the sound of every quickening 
footstep behind him, that the hand of justice 
would be laid upon him — no more shrinking 
from a shadow, nor stealthily looking back, 
to see whether some pursuer should start 
from some dark spot that he had passed. He 
was free. He was amenable no longer to 
any law of the land. 

Oh, had he but known it all sooner ! He 


3 26 


Amid the Shadows. 


never knew before the depth of his father’s 
love. And all these weary years, he had 
been wandering further and further from 
home, unconscious that the check was can- 
celled, and a full and free pardon had been 
granted, even before the asking. 

But these five years — what had they been 
to his father ? The want and privation, 
even the distress of mind which had been 
his portion, were forgotten, as he pictured 
to himself that dear head growing whiter 
and whiter, with anxiety and suspense. 

But that weary head was at rest now, and 
his thoughts lingered, as Mabel’s were doing, 
over that quiet grave. 

Another grave was beside it. He had 
stooped and picked an early violet from that 
mound, on which the flowers had bloomed 
for many years ; and, taking it from his 
pocket, where he had put it hastily, he 
carefully pressed it between the leaves of his 


A ll Blotted Oiit. 


327 


memorandum book. Both were gone now — 
his father and his mother. Should he ever 
meet them again ? 

As if in answer to his unspoken question, 
Gertrude, speaking to Mabel, said : 

“ Remember, darling, we shall see him 
again some day. Don’t you remember, he 
said that he and mother would wait and 
watch for us all ?” 

“ For us all ?” repeated Harry to himself, 
“ for us all ?” 

Gertrude continued, “ Now, Mabel, darling, 
just think how happy we will all be there — 
all of us in heaven with Jesus.” 

“ Will Harry be there too ?” whispered 
Mabel, unconscious, as Gertrude was, that 
their brother was paying any attention to 
their conversation. 

Eagerly Harry waited to hear his sister’s 
reply. He felt no particular interest in 
heaven, as it was to his father and sister — 


3 2 8 


Amid the Skadozvs. 


the abode of their Saviour ; but, so long 
exiled from home, his love for each member 
of the family had grown warmer and warmer, 
and he could not bear the thought of their 
being all together anywhere, and he excluded. 

He held his breath, that he might catch 
Gertrude’s whispered answer. 

“ Yes, darling, if Harry loves Jesus.” 

“ If ” — qualified with an “ if.” 

“ Doesn’t he love him now ?” whispered 
Mabel, in a tone of such surprise, that she 
slightly raised her voice. 

“ Hush, darling, don’t speak so loud.” 

“But, sister, doesn’t he love Jesus?” per- 
sistently asked Mabel, though this time in a 
suppressed voice. 

Harry noticed that Gertrude was evidently 
loath to answer the question, and his heart 
answered it to himself. “Love Jesus?” 
why should he love Jesus? Hadn’t He 
blighted his whole life? Hadn’t He taken 


All Blotted Out. 


329 

from him her who used to guide him aright ? 
Could he ever forget the enmity that arose 
in his heart, when God had taken from him 
his idolized mother? 

“Love Jesus?” No, he could not bring 
himself to frame in words the feeling that 
came into his heart, but it was far, far from 
love. Without replying to Mabel’s question, 
Gertrude said : 

“ Darling, it is time for you to go to bed, 
now and then, turning to her brother, 
asked : 

“ Harry, can’t we commence family wor- 
ship, again ? It has been impossible to 
keep it up during father’s illness.” 

Harry started. What did she want him 
to do ? Assuming, however, a tone of per- 
fect indifference, he replied : 

“ I don’t care what you do.” 

“ I mean, Harry,” continued Gertrude, 
somewhat hesitatingly, for his tone had in it 


330 


Amid the Shadows. 


more of a rebuff than he himself was con- 
scious of, “wont you read a chapter for us?” 

“ No, I thank you. I don’t care to.” 

Would she have asked such a thing had 
she dreamed of the thought that arose in his 
heart, in answer to the question that Mabel 
had asked so eagerly ? 

Determined not to be baffled, Gertrude 
said : 

“ Well, then, I will do it ;” and was taking 
up a Bible, when she noticed her brother 
evidently preparing to leave the room. 

“Please, stay with us, Harry,” she pleaded, 
in a tone so like their mother’s, that he 
could not but yield, though feeling that he 
was making a great sacrifice. 

Gertrude selected portions of the four- 
teenth and fifteenth chapters of St. John’s 
Gospel. 

Harry tried not to listen, until, near the 
close of the latter chaper, one word attracted 


A ll Blotted Out. 


33i 


his attention. It seemed an echo of the 
unspoken thought that had been in his heart 
but a moment ago. 

“ He that hateth me, hateth my Father 
also.” 

It was as if the words had been spoken of 
him. He could not but listen now, and the * 
sentence that next sent an arrow into his 
heart, seemed meant for him alone : 

“ They hateth me without a cause.” 

Gertrude knelt and prayed, but Harry 
heeded not the prayer. The words he had 
heard kept ringing in his ears. 

As soon as his sisters rose from their 
knees, for he had not yielded enough to 
kneel with them, he quickly left the room, 
and passed up -stairs to his own chamber. 

Gertrude sighed. He was still grasping 
the thorns. She dreamed not, that, even 
then, his hold on them was relaxing, and, 
although unconsciously to himself, he was 


332 


Amid the Shadows . 


already reaching out eager hands for the 
treasures that were hers. 

Alone, Harry tried to forget the words 
that he had heard, but the effort to forget 
stamped them more ineffaceably upon his 
memory. He would have sought forgetful - 
- ness where he had so often found it ; but 
respect for his father, but just laid in the 
grave, forbade his seeking his accustomed 
places of resort to-night. 

No, he must fight the battle alone. He 
wondered that the feeling of relief from the 
old burden, did not afford him greater satis- 
faction. At the moment when his load had 
rolled away, it seemed as if never again 
could his heart be heavy. But now, why 
he thought not of the relief ; instead there 
seemed rolling down upon him a very moun- 
tain of guilt. 

Again those dreaded words rang in his 
ears, “They hated me without a cause.” 


A ll Blotted Out. 


333 


What did they mean ? What had they to 
do with him ? Then he retraced the t s rain of 
thought that had caused the words to be so 
forcibly impressed upon his mind — Mabel’s 
question, and Gertrude’s answer. 

His little sister had asked whether he 
would be in heaven, when they met once 
more the father and mother, so lately re- 
united, and Gertrude had qualified her 
answer with an “ if” — “if he loves Jesus;” 
and he shuddered, as he remembered that 
the word his own heart dared not frame, as 
expressing his real feelings towards the 
Saviour, had been supplied by that Saviour 
himself, in the verses that Gertrude had read. 

Pshaw ! what had he to do with such 
thoughts ? He would forget them ; and he 
put out his hand, and drew toward him a 
book that was lying on the other side of the 
table. With an exclamation of impatience 
he pushed it from him. It was a Bible, which 


334 Amid the Shadows . 

Gertrude had placed there soon after his 
return, but which had lain unnoticed until 
now. 

He seized a newspaper, but, though he 
read column after column, he could compre- 
hend nothing of their meaning : instead, 
burning before his eyes, ever glared those 
never-to-be-forgotten words: “They hated 
me without a cause.” 

Throwing down the paper, he reached out 
his hand again for the Bible. He would 
read the words for himself. Perhaps he had 
not heard them aright. 

He had no difficulty in finding the chapter 
containing them, for Gertrude had named it ; 
but, not knowing the verse, he had to read 
several, before he found it. 

Yes, there it was. He had remembered 
it correctly : “ They hated me without a 

cause.” The chapter, as he had hastily 
glanced over it, seemed so infused with the 


All Blotted Out. 


335 


spirit of love, that a revulsion of feeling was 
aroused by the sudden change from love to 
hate. And could it refer to him ? 

How that mountain, of guilt, hanging over 
him, seemed descending, coming nearer and 
nearer, till his very heart felt its crushing 
weight. 

“ They hated me without a cause.” Again 
the words rang in his ears, and he bowed his 
head upon his hands, in agony of remorse. 

Five weary years had he been weighed 
down by the consciousness of a sin com- 
mitted against his father — a sin which might 
be expiated only by years of lonely imprison- 
ment, — five years, when the weight seemed 
crushing out his very life ; but what now, was 
that long borne burden ? Why, the accumu- 
lated misery of ten thousand years, such as 
the five through which he had passed, seemed 
concentrated in that one moment ! What, 
now, to him, was the crime committed against 


336 Amid the Shadows. 

a fellow- mortal, even though that fellow- 
mortal were his own loving father? It 
dwindled away into nothingness in contrast 
with the sins he had committed against God. 

His father had shown him the cancelled 
check, and he was free from the power of 
the law. Could such relief come to him now ? 

No, no, staring in his face, appeared a 
record of his sins against God. A forger — 
yes, in God’s sight, he was that still ; but 
greater than all else, the very foundation 
of all, arose the accusation contained in the 
heart-crushing words, “ They hated me with- 
out a cause.” 

Hour after hour he sat there. He heard 
his sister enter her room, adjoining his. He 
heard her praying, and breathlessly he lis- 
tened to catch, if he could, one word of 
comfort. 

He could hear his name, though he could 
not distinguish the words of the petition, and 


A ll Blotted Out. 


337 


even this afforded him some consolation. 
She was praying for him. Oh, she knew not 
what a lost sinner he was, else she would not 
thus spend her breath in vain. 

All was still in the house, but he feared to 
sleep, if he could, lest, in his moments of 
unconsciousness, that overhanging mountain 
might fall, and crush him into hell. 

Where could he go for comfort ? His 
sins rising between God and his soul, seemed 
to render approach to the mercy-seat impos- 
sible. 

What right had he, a self-condemned 
sinner, to ask pardon of Him against whom 
his sins had been committed, and who, in 
justice, might condemn him to an eternity of 
agony ? 

He leaned his head upon the table, and 
fell into a light slumber, but awakened with 
a start, for, even in his dreams, there seemed 
handed to him a scroll, closely written over 


338 Amid the Shadows. 

with the sins of his past life. At the head 
of the list stood the never-forgotten words : 
“ They hated me without a cause and all 
this multitude of sins seemed to grow from 
that one, — greater than all beside. 

Oh, that they might be washed away ! 
Was there no power in earth or heaven to 
blot them out forever ? 

“ Blot them out !” he started, as from 
another dark dream. 

The words seemed an echo of his father’s 
dying whisper, — “ the check is cancelled — all 
is blotted out.” 

What could it mean ? Had his father 
simply referred to the record of his forgery, 
or had his words a deeper meaning ? 

‘‘ Blotted out !” — what was it that his father 
had said, as he spoke those sweet words of 
forgiveness ? 

He had but an indistinct recollection of 
them, and yet he was sure he should recog- 


All Blotted Out. 


339 


nize them, should he find them in the Bible ; 
and, though, but a moment before, he had 
felt that he was too far from God to pray, his 
heart breathed a prayer, as he drew the 
Bible toward him, that he might be directed 
to the words that, he instinctively felt, were 
fraught with comfort for him. 

In answer to his unspoken prayer, he 
opened the Bible among the epistles of St. 
Paul, and eagerly scanning verse after verse, 
his attention was soon attracted by the very 
words for which he sought. Eagerly he 
read them again and again. Yes, the very 
words his father had spoken : 

“ Blotting out the handwriting of ordi- 
nances that was against us, which was con- 
trary to us, and took it out of the way, 
nailing it to his cross.” 

With the eagerness of a drowning man. 
grasping at a plank, floating just within his 
reach, so now he read each word. “ Blotting 


340 


Amid the Shadows . 


out the handwriting of ordinances that was 
against us,” — yes, that was what he wanted. 
In his mind, he could almost read the con- 
demnation written against him, on account 
of his sins. 

So had he read and dreamed, again and 
again, during those years, whose burden now 
seemed so light, the condemnation written 
against him by the hand of earthly justice ; 
but the check cancelled by a father's love, 
had wiped out all. 

What could wipe out this just condemna- 
tion ? Already he seemed to hear the fear- 
ful words, “ Depart from me,” and his soul 
bowed beneath the justice of the sentence. 

Yes, yes, the handwriting against him 
was all deserved. He must but yield, 
acknowledging the righteousness of the 
condemnation. 

Involuntarily his eyes followed the words 
of the verse. The last clause rivetted his 


A It Blotted Out. 


34i 


attention, — “ took it out of the way, nailing 
it to his cross.” 

What meaning was there in those words f 
— “ nailing it to his cross ?” Whose cross ? 

What had the cross to do with his sins ? 

With his head again bowed upon his hands, 
memory recalled the story of the cross, so 
often listened to in days long gone by, at 
his mothers knee, but alas, so little thought 
of during the years that had intervened be- 
tween the “ then ” and “ now and, as he 
thought, he dreamed again. 

He stands with the curious crowd upon the 
mount of Calvary, and with tearful eyes, 
gazes upon the saddest, and yet the most 
joy-bearing scene, that earth ever witnessed. 

See ! above the head of each of the two 
malefactors is nailed his accusation, and above 
the head of Him, on whom all eyes are riv- 
etted, is a long scroll, bearing the record of 
the crimes for which he hangs upon the cross. 


342 


Amid the Shadows . 


Curiosity draws him nearer, and he reads 
the condemnation. Wonder of wonders ! it 
is the very record that, unatoned for, would 
sink him into unending woe ; and lo ! — it is 
nailed to the Saviour’s cross. 

His eyes are fixed upon it; each word 
stands out in glowing colors. Even during 
the solemn darkness, he knows it is there, 
though he sees it not. But listen ! — the 
pale lips part, and utter the exultant cry : 
“ It is finished,” and even as the Saviour 
speaks, he looks, and the dark record is pass- 
ing away ; and as the Saviour hangs lifeless 
on the cross, the handwriting against him 
has all disappeared, he knows not whither. 

He wakened, and his eyes again sought 
the sdul-comforting words. In them now, 
was a meaning unknown before ; and throw- 
ing himself upon his knees, he thanked, for 
the first time in his life, Him who, dying on 
the cross, had “blotted out the handwrit- 


A l l Blotted Otit. 


343 


in g of ordinances that was against him.” 

How long he knelt he knew not. He 
seemed in the very presence of his heavenly 
Father. He knew that he was accepted of 
Him, for had not His well-beloved Son 
borne his sins in His own body on the tree? 
It was even as though that Son had written 
out, in full, a check, paying “all the debt he 
owed and the Father, acknowledging the 
Son's oneness with Himself, had received it, 
and — “ the check was cancelled — all was 
blotted out.” 

He was in his father’s house, welcomed 
home after years of wandering. 

Again he sighed, Oh, had I but known it 
sooner ! Oh, had I but known the depth of 
his love ! All these years have I been 
wandering further and further from home, 
unconscious that my pardon was bought on 
Calvary. 

Morning dawned ere he slept, and, as the 


344 


Amid the Shadows. 


sun shone in at his window, he wakened, 
scarcely realizing what had passed, yet con- 
scious that some great change had fallen on 
all around him. 

Then flashed through his mind the events 
of the last night, and his heart sang for joy. 

Hastily dressing, he listened for Gertrude 
to leave her room. He could not keep to 
himself his new-born happiness. 

He called to her as she passed his door, 
and her first glance at his face, all aglow with 
a radiance unseen there before, revealed to 
her the truth. Who shall picture the sister’s 
joyful thanksgiving ? She had thought him 
still in the shadow, and lo ! — upon him shone 
the full beams of the Sun of Righteousness. 
She had mourned for him, as clutching the 
thorns, and lo ! — he had cast them aside, and 
was already wearing, as his greatest treasure, 
the thornless Rose of Sharon ! 



XVI. 

“WHERE is my wandering boy to-night? 

“ Can one go upon hot coals, and his feet not be burned ?” 
— Prov. vi. 28. 

S if by magic, the streets, almost 
deserted at so late an hour of the 
winter night, became thronged with 
a hurrying, jostling crowd. 

There had been heard an indistinct mur- 
mur, coming, — no one knew whence, and 
meaning, no one knew what ; but almost in a 
moment, the murmur, growing in volume and 
distinctness, had filled the hearts of hundreds 
of hastily awakened sleepers with deepest 
terror, and the surging crowd, receiving ever 



346 


Amid the Shadows . 


and anon additions from avenues of palaces, 
or alleys of hovels, still rushed on toward the 
one spot, where all interest centered. 

The air was full of the sound of alarm 
bells, while the galloping horses of the fire 
engines stopped not for the crowd, which 
gave way at their approach, but dashed on 
madly to the scene of disaster. 

Fathers, unused to visiting such scenes, 
donned their clothing hastily, when, from 
some hurrying passers-by, they learned the 
scene of the fire, and, with anxious hearts, 
joined the ever augmenting crowd ; while 
mothers wept and prayed at home, thinking 
of the nights when their little ones, safely 
tucked in their nursery cribs, were, in the 
midnight hours, safe from all harm. Now, 
with a pleading appeal to heaven for help, 
many a one could cry, “ Where is my 
wandering boy to-night ?” 

From the first, there had been no doubt, 


Where is my Boy to Night? 347 

even among those at a distance, as to the 
scene of the fire. 

One of the largest theatres in the city was 
in flames ; the lurid glare lit up the midnight 
sky, and many a manly heart quailed with 
terror, as the whisper passed through the 
crowd that hundreds of human beings were, 
even then, being bruised and mangled in 
their efforts to escape the devouring monster, 
while others, crazed by their vain attempts 
to reach a place of safety, had yielded pas- 
sively to their fate, and had sunk amid the 
fire and smoke, to rise no more. 

Steadily the heroic firemen poured the 
stream upon the consuming buildings, put- 
ting forth almost superhuman efforts to save 
the poor creatures, who called wildly for aid, 
while amid the gathered crowd were heard 
agonizing cries from those whose loved ones 
were, perchance, being swallowed in the 
fiery vortex. 


348 


Amid the Shadows. 


Mingled with the wailings were, at times, 
outbursts of joy and thanksgiving, as some 
friend or relative recognized another who 
had been given up as lost. 

Minutes passed as hours, and the cry 
arose, “ The walls are falling in !” and a 
groan of despair burst from the overburdened 
hearts of anxious lookers-on, for well they 
knew that the many, who had not yet been 
rescued, were beyond all hope of escape 
now. 

The flames were conquered, but, as the 
sun arose in his glory, instead of a stately 
edifice, bedecked with glittering ornament 
to attract the eyes of the pleasure-seeking 
multitude, there towered a charred mass of 
ruins — not lacking in ornament, truly, for 
the hanging icicles gave it the appearance 
of a giant iceberg, or the fairy palace of 
some fabled frost-king. 

Still the crowd pressed as near as safety 


Where is my Boy to Night? 349 

would permit, while again and again some 
father, to whom suspense had become un- 
bearable, essayed to brave all danger, and 
search amid the crumbling ruins for his still 
missing boy. Then, prevented by the guard, 
with streaming eyes, he would return to his 
place in the waiting crowd, and, wringing 
his hands, would pray hopelessly for him 
whose charred or mangled remains, he 
hoped, yet feared to recognize. 

Still with heavy hearts, and sickening at 
the new sights of horror that were ever being 
revealed to them, the firemen worked. 

In a neighboring building lay those who 
had perished in the flames ; and, from one to 
another, moved fathers and brothers, seeking 
by some means to identify the disfigured 
victims, and thus end the suspense that was 
worse than the most hopeless certainty. 
Once the door opened, and there entered a 
grief-stricken mother. Her thin shawl hug- 


350 


Amid the Shadows. 


ged closely around her to protect her from 
the bitter cold, bespoke her poverty. Her 
gray hair fell from beneath her worn hood, 
and the hollow, sunken eyes, told of a night 
of watching. 

Shuddering and faint, she paused irreso- 
lute at the threshold ; then, with trembling 
steps, she approached one of the rescued 
bodies. Sickened at the sight, she would 
have gone no further ; but mother-love pre- 
vailed, and she forced herself to view each 
one, but her search was all in vain. 

Once and again had she turned back for a 
second look at some blackened face, thinking 
to catch in it some resemblance to her boy ; 
then with a disheartened sigh, she had turned 
away, and, perchance, the next moment, the 
smothered sobs that fell upon her ear, told 
her, that some one on the same mournful 
errand as herself, had identified the body as 
one dear to him. 


Where is my Boy to Night f 351 

Again and again she scanned the features 
so unlike what they had been in life, then 
left the room, and, passing into the crowd, 
took up again the question that had been on 
her lips a hundred times during that night 
of watching : “ Can’t some one tell me about 
Ned ? Has any one seen my Ned ?” 

Hark ! a whisper passes from lip to lip. 
When - it was supposed that all the bodies 
had been recovered, the firemen, in pulling 
away some heavy pieces of timber, had dis- 
covered two more, wedged tightly among 
them. Faint groans had followed their 
efforts to release them ; one or both must be 
alive ; and, but for determined resistance on 
the part of the police force, the excited 
crowd would have rushed headlong to the 
spot upon which all effort now was centered. 

Thus, kept at a safe distance from the tot- 
tering walls, with eager eyes, they try to 
catch a glimpse of the workmen. See ! one 


352 A 7 nid the Shadows. 

poor creature has been released, and is 
being carried on a litter away from the 
spot where death had met him so unexpect- 
edly. 

Curiosity can scarce be baffled ; fain would 
some one lift the cloth that hides the disfig- 
ured features, but the bearers pass silently on, 
and deposit their burden beside the many 
other lifeless victims. 

The crowd follows, but, pushing her way 
to the front presses the poor distracted mother. 

“ Tell me if it is my Ned ?” she cries, but 
no one answers. 

Again she enters the room, dreading to 
look, yet anxious to know the truth. “ No, 
no, not yet,” she sighs, and hurries back to 
hear whether the last sufferer, if he be still 
living, has been released. 

As she leaves the room, a gentleman 
enters. His eyes, too, betoken a night of 
sleepless anxiety, and he too has scanned 


Where is my Boy to Night? 353 

again and again the features of the unknown 
ones lying there. 

Now he lifts the cloth, and throwing him- 
self across the shrunken, crushed body, joins 
with King David in his cry : 

“ O my son, Absalom ! my son, my son, 
Absalom ! would God I had died for thee ! 
O Absalom, my son, my son P 

Oh, the remorse of that moment ! An 
over-indulgent parent, he had allowed his 
boy perfect liberty, supplying him with 
money, without asking an account of its ex- 
penditure, and now the end had come ! 

How should he tell the mother that her 
idolized boy was nothing but a repulsive 
mass of blackened flesh ? How should he 
tell her, that the boy who was the very pride 
of her life, had, without a moment’s warning, 
been hurried into eternity ? 

But it must be done ; and, lifting his face, 
grown old since he had dropped it upon his 

23 


354 


Amid the Shadows. 


shattered idol, Mr. Collins gave orders that 
the remains of his only child should be con- 
veyed to the home, from which, only last 
evening, he had gone whistling down the 
steps, slamming the front-door behind him, 
and calling back to his mother, that she need 
not wait for him, for he had an engagement 
that would detain him. 

His search ended, the father could relin- 
quish his place in the waiting crowd, but, as 
he passed, he heard the cry, “He is alive, 
but crushed by the fallen timbers and paus- 
ing for an instant, to sympathize with ano- 
ther of the many, who, with him, had been 
drawn together during the long night, by a 
bond of common sorrow, he saw the litter 
borne carefully along, while beside it, wring- 
ing her withered hands, tottered the gray 
haired mother, wildly weeping, and calling, 
“Oh, tell me he wont die! My Ned! oh, 
my darling boy !” 


Where is my Boy to Night f 355 

And the two passed on ; the father to re- 
ceive in his home of luxury, the lifeless body 
of his son ; the mother to guide the way to 
her one room, where many an anxious night 
had been spent in watching and praying for 
him, whose feet would never more cross the 
threshold, but who, in years of helplessness, 
would learn the lesson that God could teach 
him in no other way. 

Following the mournful procession at a 
little distance, as if in readiness to render 
assistance, yet hesitating to offer it, his face 
pale as that of Ned’s mother, walked Luke 
Ray. 




XVII. 

GOD AN ICONOCLAST. 

“They have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirl- 
wind.’ ’ — Ho sea viii. 7- 

CARRIAGE, with horses gayly 
caparisoned, stood before the door 
of a handsome house, on the most 
fashionable avenue of the city. 

Within, in a brilliantly lighted room, a 
lady, dressed for an evening party, stood 
before her mirror, giving the last touches to 
the folds of her rich silk, and twining in her 
hair a few more flowers, that, she felt sure, 
would heighten the effect of her already 
elaborate toilet. 



God an Iconoclast. 


357 


With an exclamation of impatience, she 
turned, as, at the open door, a child’s nurse 
appeared, holding in her arms a fretting 
baby. 

“ Please, ma’am, I can’t make Willie go to 
sleep. He cries all the time, and I think 
he’s a bit feverish.” 

“ I wish, Jane, that you would keep him 
in the nursery. You knew that I was going 
out this evening, and he only worries more 
when he sees me. He will be quiet enough 
as soon as I am out of the house.” 

“ Annie,” said her husband, entering from 
an adjoining room, “ if baby is sick, we had 
better stay at home. His little hands are 
right hot,” 

“ Nonsense, Charles, how preposterous ! 
Of course, if baby was sick, I wouldn’t go ; 
but it is only his teeth that trouble him, and 
make him feverish. He’ll be quiet enough 
before we have been out of the house ten 


358 


Amid the Shadows . 


minutes. Come, the carriage is waiting. 
Good-night, little darling. You’ll be fast 
asleep before we come home, and, kissing 
the hot little cheek, she hurried down-stairs, 
unheeding the little hands that were stretched 
out so beseechingly toward her, but calling 
back from the hall, 

“Be sure, Jane, that you stay with him 
until we come back.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Jane, as she 
carried her little charge to the nursery. 

The sound of the carriage wheels died 
away in the distance, and then, producing a 
bottle from her pocket, the trusted Jane 
poured into a spoon part of the contents, 
and held it to the baby’s lips. The little 
sufferer drank it eagerly, as though not 
unaccustomed to it, and soon his fretting 
ceased, and he fell into a deep sleep. Car- 
rying him carefully, Jane laid him in his crib, 
saying, as she smoothed the covers over him, 


God an Iconoclast. 


359 


“ Yes, you do go to sleep as soon as she 
goes out, and you shall, too. I don’t want 
to be bothered by your noise any more than 
she does. I guess I needn’t stay with you ; 
you wont need a second dose after what I 
gave you and lowering the gas, she de- 
scended to the kitchen ; first, however, con- 
cealing the bottle of soothing syrup, that 
had so often given her uninterrupted even- 
ings with the other servants, when the baby’s 
parents were attending some party or place 
of fashionable amusement. 

As the carriage rolled up to the door, she 
hurriedly left her companions, and, drawing 
a chair close beside the crib, was quietly 
seated in it, when her mistress entered the 
room. 

“ Now, Jane,” said the lady, “ didn’t he go 
to sleep soon after we left ?” 

“Not right away, ma’am ; but I walked 
with him, and coaxed him, and soon he just 


360 Amid the Shadows. 

fell off to sleep like you see him, and has 
been quiet ever since.” 

“Very well, Jane, you can go now ;” and 
then, turning to her husband, the lady con- 
tinued : 

“ Just look at baby, now, Charles. 
Wouldn’t it have been foolish to have come 
home when you first proposed? Jane says 
he went to sleep soon after we left, and has 
been sleeping quietly ever since. I knew 
that he only fretted more when he saw me. 
Jane knows it too, and yet, she will persist 
in bringing him to me, just when I am going 
out” 

“ Well, Annie, I must confess that I have 
felt worried about him all the evening, but I 
acknowledge it was unnecessary. Jane 
seems to have a magical way of quieting 
him.” 

“ Yes, there is everything in a baby’s 
becoming accustomed to a nurse’s handling. 


God an Iconoclast. 


361 


I might have worried over him for hours, and 
thrown myself too, into a fever. I only hope 
we may be able to keep Jane, until Willie 
can do without a nurse.” 

A hearse drew up before the door, where, 
eighteen years before, the carriage had 
waited. 

The same mother, not now bedecked with 
silk and jewels, but clothed in habiliments of 
deepest mourning, leaned over the closed 
coffin that contained the charred remains of 
her only child. 

She had not been allowed to see him since 
he had been brought home on that dark, 
dark day. She could not press one kiss 
upon his lips, nor lay a flower in his cold 
hand. 

Only a closed coffin, and over that she 
hung and wept. He was her idol, and he 
had been taken from her. 


362 Amid the Shadows. 

Forgotten now were all the words of dis- 
respect, that, when spoken, had sent such 
sharp arrows to her heart. Only remem- 
bered were the loving kisses of his boyhood, 
when his merry, innocent laugh was sweetest 
music in her ears ; when, even contrary to 
her judgment, indulgences of all kinds were 
granted to the darling child who fondled her 
so lovingly, and loaded her with now doubly- 
prized caresses. 

True, she had, as he grew older, suspected 
at times, that his violent demonstrations of 
affection were feigned, that he might accom- 
plish some selfish end ; nevertheless, each 
cherished desire of his heart was granted. 

With every wish, even the slightest, grati- 
fied as soon as expressed — with a will, 
seldom, if ever, crossed, no wonder that the 
spoiled, petted child, grew to be a self-willed, - 
unrestrained boy. 

His father, gazing with tearless grief at 


God an Iconoclast . 


363 


the coffin-lid, could not stifle the voice of 
conscience, as it whispered in his ear, of a 
life wrecked, even before its prime, by an 
over-indulgence, which, though meant in 
love, had been but helping his boy in the 
work of self-destruction. 

Why had he not checked him, when first 
he became conscious that he was starting in 
the downward course? Why had he not 
reasoned with him, and warned him of the 
end of the path he was entering ? 

Why ? He had tried to do so. but had 
found that the time for enforcing obedience, 
and checking his headstrong boy, had long 
since passed ; so, rather than bring a frown 
on that bright, handsome face, he had con- 
cluded to let him run his course — “ sow his 
wild oats,” — while young, trusting that, when 
older, his own good sense would teach him 
his folly, and he would, sooner or later, take 
a stand for the right. 


364 Amid the Shadows . 

But this had come — this coffin-lid, between 
his boy’s life of self-gratification, and the 
noble manhood, that, he had promised him- 
self, would eventually prove the blessing of 
his declining years, — this coffin-lid ! and be- 
neath it lay, not a bright face, with the curls 
brushed from a noble forehead — not hands 
unsullied by a deed of sin — not feet which 
had never left their prints in paths of wicked- 
ness, but the charred form of their fondly 
cherished boy, who, though yet only on the 
threshold of manhood, had already wan- 
dered into many a forbidden path. 

And how had he died ? Memory seemed 
intent on torturing the poor father to the 
uttermost. Had his mind been bright and 
clear? Had he, as the pitiless flame crept 
nearer and nearer to him, lifted his heart in 
prayer, that God would have mercy upon 
him ? None but God could ever answer 
these questions, but his father knew, that 


God an Iconocdast. 


365 


many a time had he come home lately with 
his mind so beclouded by liquor, that, had 
death met him in that state, he could not 
have thought a prayer. 

Yes, it had been terrible, he must admit 
it, this appetite for liquor, which had been 
developed, when his boy was a mere child. 
How could that be accounted for ? He could 
not blame himself in that respect, for being a 
strictly temperate man, no liquor was ever 
made use of in the house ; yet this idolized 
son had shown so very early a taste, that, 
by many, would have been pronounced in- 
herited. 

Whence came it ? Never could he know 
that the opiates, used by the “ faithful ” 
Jane, to soothe the baby frettings, and allow 
her evenings of undisturbed enjoyment, cre- 
ated in that little nature, a demand for more 
and more, until the drain upon her wages 
had almost persuaded the nurse to relinquish 


366 Amid the Shadows . 

the practice, had not the baby protested 
loudly against it. 

Then, as time wore on, and the need of 
opiates ceased, still was left that unnatural 
craving which so soon developed into an 
appetite for stimulants. 

And this was the end of it all ! 

Still the mother shed her tears over that 
closed coffin, until a crowd began to gather 
— part brought hither by real sympathy, 
others by a curiosity excited by the fact that 
this was the funeral of one of the victims of 
the fire. 

Then Mr. Collins led away his weeping 
wife, who, turning once more ere she left the 
room, took one long look at what held her 
idol. 

Amid the gathered crowd stood a boy, 
pale and awe-stricken. As he looked at the 
coffin, the thought arose, “ Why am not I 
lying as Will is ?” 


God an Iconoclast. 


367 


He gazed with a sort of fascination, until, 
the funeral service ended, the casket was 
lifted, and borne to the waiting hearse. 
He watched, until it disappeared from view, 
the long line of carriages following on the 
way to Will’s last home. 

Then Luke turned, and walking hurriedly, 
scarce conscious of the direction he was 
taking, found himself in a narrow street, far 
different from the avenue along which Will 
Collins had just been carried. 

Entering a respectable tenement house, he 
slowly ascended a flight of stairs, and hesita- 
tingly knocked at a door near its head. It 
was opened by the same pale-faced widow, 
who had braved the cold of the winter night 
for the sake of her boy. 

She motioned to him to enter, and, wiping 
her eyes upon her apron, said : 

“ You may see him, Luke, if you want 


3 68 


Amid the Shadows . 


to,” and then, standing with the boy beside 
the bed, she sobbed, 

“ Oh, if he would only speak to me ; but 
he hasn’t been conscious a minute since that 
dreadful night. The doctors think he will 
come to his senses, but they say, it isn’t 
likely he’ll ever move again. A heavy piece 
of timber was right across his back, but, 
somehow the fire hadn’t reached him. Oh, 
my Ned ! my poor, poor boy !” and the 
heart-stricken mother knelt beside the un- 
conscious form, and, laying her face close 
beside his, smoothed from the pale forehead 
the hair that had fallen across it. 

Luke gazed at the almost lifeless body of 
his late companion, and thought, as he had 
beside Will’s coffin, “Why am I not lying 
as he is ?” 

He stood with his eyes fixed upon the 
motionless form, until, some one else enter- 


God an Iconoclast. 


3^9 


in g, he turned, and silently passing into the 
street, walked toward home. 

How well he remembered it all ! He had, 
as at so many times lately, left the house 
early in the evening, pleading the indefinite 
excuse, “an engagement,” as a reason for 
not yielding to Nellie’s pleadings, that he 
should stay at home, and, taking advantage 
of his father’s temporary absence, had hurried 
away to meet the companions with whom 
now he spent his evenings, whenever he 
could escape from his father’s watchfulness. 

They had sauntered through the streets 
awhile, and then, at Will Collins’ suggestion, 
had entered a saloon. 

No compunctions of conscience — no vision 
of the past checked him, on the threshold ; 
no, he had needed no second bidding ; and 
Will, always well supplied with money, had 
urged them to drink, and drink again. 

It was late when they left the bar-room, 


370 


Amid the Shadows . 


all of them feeling the effects of the liquor 
they had been drinking ; but, late as it was, 
Will proposed spending the rest of the even- 
ing at the theatre. They went, and with 
hundreds of others, applauded vociferously 
the coarsest jokes. 

Suddenly — he knew not how it began — 
the whole audience was in confusion. The 
tumult became so great, that it was impossi- 
ble to distinguish the words of terror uttered, 
but the dense, stifling smoke, told a tale that 
needed no words. 

Following the crowd of maddened men 
and boys, who had, like themselves, occu- 
pied seats in one of the upper galleries, they 
neared the door of exit. 

He saw a chance of escape, and looked for 
his companions, but he had become sepa- 
rated from them. Once he thought he caught 
sight of Will, as, wild with fear and excite- 
ment, and still under the influence of liquor, 


God an Iconoclast. 


37 1 


he, with a shriek, rushed into the thickest of 
the smoke ; but he could not turn back to 
look for him, for the crowd was growing 
greater and greater, and the panic increas- 
ing, as, rushing from all parts of the house, 
men, women, and even children, fought for 
their very lives, anxious only to secure their 
own safety, let others be trampled upon who 
might. 

Borne by the surging multitude, Luke 
found himself in the open air ; but Will and 
Ned — where were they? All night he had 
watched, as others, for their appearance. 
He had gazed by the light of the flaming 
building, upon the sea of upturned faces, but 
in vain ; and when the lifeless body of one, 
and the crushed form of the other had been 
liberated from the smoking ruins, he stood 
by speechless, — he alone was safe! — and 
why ? 

Nellie had been awakened by the alarm of 


372 


Amid the Shadows. 


fire, and looking from the window, saw the 
sky all aglow with the lurid light. 

She heard her father preparing to leave 
the house, for he had been awaiting Luke’s 
return, and hastened to ask him what it all 
meant. He had learned from passers by the 
scene of the fire, and his heart told him that 
his boy’s life was in danger. 

With a prayer for the safety of his son, he 
hurried to the fearful spot. All night, he, 
with a trembling heart, watched, and watched 
in vain ; but just as the morning dawned, 
amid the excited crowd, he caught a glimpse 
of the face he so longed to see. 

His boy was safe, while hundreds of 
others had perished in the remorseless 
flames. 

The night of exposure was too much for his 
weakened constitution. Ever since the night, 
when, against Nellie’s urgent remonstrances, 
he had exposed himself, after a day of illness, 


God an Iconoclast. 


373 


to the chilling influence of the bleak, piercing 
wind, to look for Luke ; that night when he 
brought home with him the shadow of the 
buried shadow, that had ever since been rest- 
ing on Nellies heart, his health had been fail- 
ing; and now, as Luke slowly entered his 
home, after gazing at the coffin of one of his 
companions, and the body of the other, 
doomed, perhaps, to years of living death, he 
found his father suffering severely, and Nellie 
doing all in her power to alleviate his pain. 

His heart smote him. He had been the 
cause of all this ; and, only waiting until 
his father was more comfortable, he went to 
his own room, where, after closing the door, 
he sat down to think over all the events of 
the past few days. 



XVIII. 

THE OLD WOUND RE-OPENED. 

“ When my heart is overwhelmed : lead me to the rock that is 
higher than I.” — Ps. lxi. 2. 

ERTRUDE ARNOLD raised her 
eyes from her sewing, and looked 
anxiously at her brother, who was 
sitting at the opposite side of the table. 

He had dropped his newspaper on his 
lap, and, with his gaze fixed on the fire 
before him, seemed to be thinking intently. 
The subject of his thoughts could not have 
been particularly pleasant, for, at times, 
there flitted across his face a look that his 
sister had seen there but seldom, during the 



The old Wound Re-opened. 375 

eight years that he had been living in the 
sunshine. 

He seemed to feel her looking at him, and 
finding, as he turned quickly, that he had 
attracted her attention, he forced himself to 
assume a more cheerful expression, and, 
taking up his paper, resumed his reading ; 
but his thoughts were evidently still far 
away. 

Gertrude’s anxious solicitude detected the 
mask he tried to wear, and the weight that 
rested on his heart, made hers heavy also, 
though she was unconscious of its nature. 

Mabel’s voice broke the silence. She had 
been sitting at the piano, playing; now, 
laying aside her music, she approached her 
sister, saying : 

“ Gerty, is my dress finished ? How did 
you like my piece ; isn’t it grand ?” 

“ Why, Mabel darling, you must excuse 
me, but I was not paying particular attention 


376 Amid the Shadows. 

to the music, so can’t give an opinion.” 

“ Very complimentary, I must say. You 
were both as quiet as mice, so I thought, of 
course, you were struck dumb with rapture. 
I listened a moment for applause, but, re- 
ceiving none, I took it for granted that your 
feelings were too deep for utterance. I 
hope that on the grand occasion, my audience 
may be rather more appreciative ; but, 
Gerty, I’ll forgive you if my dress is all 
ready for the important to-morrow.” 

“ It is, darling ; I have just finished sewing 
lace on the sleeves. Suppose, now, you 
retire early, for you have an exciting day 
before you. To think that my little Mabel 
will be a finished young lady ! I shall have 
to content myself as a quiet old maid sister.” 

“ You old ! why Gerty, how you talk ! I 
don’t care if you have some gray hairs, you’re 
not old at all ; and as to your being an old 
rpaid, I believe it’s your own fault.” 


The old Wound Re-opened . 377 

Harry turned quickly, and, catching his 
older sister’s eye, saw her face flush, and 
then turn unnaturally pale. A shadow that 
spoke of some freshly opened heart-wound 
rested on her brow. He had not noticed it 
before. Could it be possible that, during 
these years in which she had been helping 
them all to bear their burdens, she had been 
hiding from mortal eyes her own — the heav- 
iest of them all ? 

He could not but upbraid himself for his 
selfishness. His thoughts were now directed 
into another channel, but they were, evi- 
dently, no more cheerful than before. 

Mabel accused him of lack of interest in 
the very important event of her school-life, 
when, after speaking again and again, she 
at last succeeded in directing his attention to 
her graduating dress, to which her sister had 
been putting the finishing touches. She 
turned from Harry to Gertrude, sure of 


37B Amid the Shadows. 

finding sympathy and love there, and was 
not disappointed ; for the kiss she received, 
was, if possible, more tender and mother- 
like than usual. 

After the young girl had left the room, 
both brother and sister relapsed into silence. 
Both sat looking into the fire ; Harry so 
busy with his thoughts, and Gertrude with 
hers, that neither noticed the abstracted 
manner of the other. 

It was not often that Gertrude permitted 
herself to dwell upon the buried past. Now 
it rose before her, called up from the far 
away by Mabel’s thoughtlessly spoken words. 

She felt sad to-night ; the look of serious- 
ness on her brother’s face had cast its shadow 
upon hers, while the unknown weight evi- 
dently resting upon his heart, still threw an 
undefined feeling of depression over her, so 
that Mabel’s remark, coming just at that 
moment, probed more deeply than it would 


The old Wound Re-opened ’ 3 79 

ordinarily have done, the wound that she 
had thought healed forever. 

Are there not times in the experience of 
all of us, when our already over-burdened 
hearts become keenly susceptible to sad im- 
pressions, and our arch-enemy, taking ad- 
vantage of our state, by some contrivance of 
his own, with malicious delight tortures us 
by contrasting the “ is ” with the “ might 
have been,” until we wonder if we have not 
somewhere made a misstep ? We wonder 
and wonder again, until, our hearts grown 
weary with our wondering, we feel that 
could we be transported back to the starting 
point, we would do this or that in some 
rather different way. 

So the disciples, in the night-storm on the 
Galilean Sea, listening to the roaring of the 
wind that was contrary to them, and to the 
waves threatening to engulf their frail bark* 
doubtless regretted that they had ventured 


380 


Amid the Shadows. 


on the water when darkness was gathering, 
and the storm brewing. 

Did they forget who it was that “ con- 
strained them to get into the ship, and to go 
before Him unto the other side ?” 

Did they forget they were doing His 
bidding ? 

Little did they think that, in the storm, 
Jesus was to come to them, walking on the 
waves, that cowered to calmness at the touch 
of their Master’s feet. 

Gertrude’s burden was heavy to-night 
The scene arose before her of George Derby, 
as, standing beside yonder mantel, he had 
looked at her so intently, bidding her remem- 
ber that, if he went to destruction, it was 
through an act of hers. 

Could she have saved him ? Could she 
have made him a better man ? 

Faith, for the instant, wavered, and she 
found it hard to realize that her first step 


The old Wound Re-opened. 381 

had been taken at her Master’s bidding. 
Suddenly she became conscious that her 
brother’s eyes were upon her .; and dreading 
lest he might read her secret, she turned 
toward him with a forced smile, and asked 
why he had been dreaming over the fire so 
long. 

“ Why, sister,” he replied, with a searching 
look that sent the blood over cheeks and 
brow, “ I was going to ask you the very 
same question. I have been watching you 
for the last ten minutes, and you seemed to 
be reading in the coals either memories of 
the past or oracles of the future.” 

“ Indeed, Harry, watching you first set me 
dreaming. I saw something troubled you, 
and perhaps the look of thoughtfulness on 
your face was reflected upon mine. Now, 
brother,” said she, moving her chair beside 
his, and looking up into his face with the 
mother-look that was always sure to win 


382 


Amid the Shadows . 


compliance, “ I will forget my thoughts if 
you will but let me share your anxieties.” 

“Why, really, Gerty,” replied Harry, “I 
scarcely know how to speak, even to you, 
of what is on my mind. Something occurred 
to-day that revived so forcibly a past I would 
fain forget, that I cannot but have a heavy 
heart to-night.” 

Gertrude leaned her head upon his shoul- 
der, saying : 

“ Never mind, Harry dear, if you would 
rather not tell me. Leave the past with 
God.” Even as she spoke, conscience whis- 
pered that her own disregard of the advice 
she gave, had added a hundred-fold to the 
weight that sympathy for her brother had 
originated. 

“ The truth is, Gerty, that I want to talk 
it over with you, but don’t know how to 
begin. There are some things about which 
I wish to ask your advice. I went into the 


The old Wound Re-opened. 383 

court room this morning, thinking that a 
case would be called, for which I was one of 
the counsel. As I entered, my attention 
was attracted at once by the prisoner then 
being tried. He was not an old man, but 
his hair was mixed with gray, and there was 
about him an air of such utter despondency 
that my sympathies were aroused at once in 
his behalf. 

“ As near him as possible, sat a woman, 
holding on her lap a little child, while 
another one, older, leaned against her knee. 
The prisoner never turned his eyes toward 
her, but her gaze was not removed from his 
face, for a moment. 

“ The judge was delivering his charge to 
the jury as I entered the room. From this 
and further inquiries, I learned that the 
prisoner, Robert Lawton, had been arrested 
for committing assault and battery upon a 
companion whose name I did not at first 


3^4 


Amid the Shadows. 


hear. It seems that the two were together 
in a gambling saloon, and the prisoner, who 
had been induced to go there by his so- 
called friend, rendered desperate by repeated 
losses, as a last chance staked the home that 
sheltered his wife and little ones. It had 
been his wife’s marriage portion, but she, 
having full confidence in her husband, had 
transferred it to him. 

“ He played and lost again. Then, re- 
alizing what he had done, he became mad- 
dened by remorse and hopelessness, and, 
springing upon his companion, he struck him 
to the floor. The blow was not a heavy 
one, but his victim had been leading such a 
reckless life of dissipation, that his whole 
constitution was shattered ; indeed he had 
been warned again and again, that, unless 
he reformed, the end would inevitably come 
soon. 

“ This fall, together with the undue ex- 


The old Wound Re-opened. 385 

citement, hastened the crisis. He was seized 
with a violent hemorrhage, and is now 
lying in a precarious condition at the hotel 
where he was boarding. In consideration 
of the fact having been proved conclusively, 
that the blow had nothing to do with his 
present condition, Lawton was acquitted ; 
and, Gertrude, the look of love and forgive- 
ness that shone in that injured wife’s face, as 
she left the court room with her husband, 
strengthened my faith in woman ; and the 
humble contrition that was evinced in the 
husband’s downcast eyes, I cannot but think 
was a promise of happier days than they 
have yet seen.” 

During Harry’s account of the scene in 
court, Gertrude sat, her head leaning upon 
his shoulder, longing, yet fearing, to ask the 
name of him, who, tempting another, had 
himself now met his long merited punish- 
ment. 

25 


3 86 


Amid the Shadows. 


She felt sure that she needed not to ask, 
and yet she would know more certainly. 

Forcing herself to speak calmly, she in- 
quired, “ Harry, did you learn the name of 
the other one you spoke of?” 

“Yes, Gertrude; and it was this that 
brought back so vividly the dark days of my 
life. Sister, it was George Derby.” 

She had thought herself prepared to hear 
the name, — she had felt convinced that it 
was he, yet, when the supposition became a 
certainty, it proved heavier than she could 
bear ; and, had she not been leaning on her 
brothers shoulder, she would have fallen to 
the floor. 

Harry, catching her in his arms, laid her 
gently upon the sofa, and, applying restora- 
tives, soon had the satisfaction of seeing her 
eyes open. Then, as she realized what had 
happened, her face crimsoned, as Harry had 
seen it once before that evening. What 


The old Wound Re-opened. 387 

could it mean ? In a moment the solution 
of the mystery flashed across his mind. 

He could remember now some words 
uttered by George Derby years ago, when 
he had been chosen as the victim of the 
tempter — words implying that he was being 
avenged for some great wrong done him ; 
unintelligible to him at the time, but now, 
revealing a revenge, that, with fiendish 
malice, would ruin the body and soul of a 
brother, because a sister had been true to 
herself, and to her God. 

The look of intelligent sympathy that 
flashed from Harry’s eyes, told Gertrude 
that her secret was no longer hers exclu- 
sively ; but the soft pressure of his hand, as 
he took hers, was an assurance, without a 
spoken promise, that it should still be kept 
sacred. 

“ Leave it all to me Gerty,” he said, 
tenderly, as he urged her to retire and try to 


3 88 


Amid the Shadows. 


sleep ; “ I will see that he has all the comfort 
and care that he needs.” 

With a kiss that spoke more than words 
could have done, Harry parted from his 
sister at the door of her room; then, entering 
his own, he sat down to think over some 
pages of the past, and reading them, now 
that he had the key, with so much ease, he 
wondered at his own former want of dis- 
cernment. 

He had not told his sister all. Having 
learned that it was George Derby who was 
lying at the point of death, — George Derby, 
whom, even now, it was so hard to forgive, 
his conscience would not let him rest until 
he had called at the hotel, to which he learned 
he had been carried. 

He was surprised at being shown to a 
room in one of the upper stories, and, standing 
at the half-open door, he had an opportunity 


The old Wound Re-opened. 389 

of seeing everything within, without being 
himself observed. 

Oh, what a change ! In years gone by, 
George Derby, having inherited a large for- 
tune upon the death of both his parents, 
had lived in a style corresponding with his 
wealth. 

His favored friends were the envy of those 
excluded from his sumptuously furnished 
apartments, where the choicest viands, and 
most expensive wines, were dealt out by the 
young host with no sparing hand. 

How different now ! His ill-gotten gains 
had brought no blessings with them. Instead, 
on the gold, won so often at gambling tables, 
had rested the curse of beggared wives and 
children, and husbands driven to the very 
verge of despair. 

The room, instead of being furnished with 
the elegance of past years, now held simply 
what was absolutely necessary. Upon the 


390 Amid the Shadows . 

bed, propped up with pillows, lay George 
Derby, the mere shadow of his former self. 

He half turned, as Harry gently knocked 
at the door, and feebly bade him “ come in.” 
He looked astonished at the entrance of a 
stranger, though too feeble to express his 
surprise in words. 

Harry saw at once that he was not recog- 
nized, and thought it better to appear as a 
perfect stranger, fearing that, should George 
Derby suspect who he was, unpleasant 
memories might arouse his pride, forbidding 
him to receive favors from one he had so 
deeply wronged. 

The invalid was too weak to decline his 
offers of assistance, and the explanation that 
Harry gave of having heard of his condition 
in court that day, was sufficient to reconcile 
him to receiving all necessary aid. 

He had stayed with him as long as possi- 
ble, and had then procured the services of an 


The old Wound Re-opened. 391 

attendant to remain with him during the 
night. 

He felt, however, that it was necessary to 
find some trustworthy person, who could be 
with the sick man constantly ; and it was 
upon this point that he wished to ask the 
advice of Gertrude, when his thoughts had 
been diverted so suddenly, but in such a 
way as to render him more than ever anxious 
to do all in his power for him whom he had 
so long regarded as his greatest enemy. 




XIX. 

“ WHY WAS I SPARED ?” 

“ The goodness of Godleadeth thee to repentance.” — Rom. ii. 4. 



dE morrow dawned as bright as 
even Mabel could desire, and, with 
her accustomed self-forgetfulness, 


Gertrude superintended the necessary ar- 
rangements for this eventful period in her 
young sister’s school-life. No one could 
have guessed that, all through the gayeties 
of the day, her heart was continually breath- 
ing a prayer for strength to bear it's crushing 
burden. To Harry alone was the veil she 
wore, transparent ; and the warm pressure 
of his hand, with his loving kiss when they 


“ Why was I Spared 393 

first met in the morning, assured her of his 
warmest sympathy ; while a whisper that he 
would do what he could for the comfort of 
the sick one, was received with as much 
gratitude as though a favor had been done 
for herself. 

It was not until evening, after Mabel, 
wearied with the excitement of the day, had 
retired, that the brother and sister could 
resume the conversation, interrupted so 
abruptly the previous evening. 

Even then, Gertrude dared not trust 
herself to ask the many questions that arose 
to her lips, and Harry was the first to 
speak. 

Taking a seat beside her on the sofa, he 
put his arm affectionately around her, and 
drawing her close beside him, said, 

“ Gerty, do you think Luke Ray would 
make a good nurse ?” 

Gertrude’s heart beat so violently that she 


394 


Amid the Shadows . 


could scarce find breath to speak ; but, in a 
low voice, she answered, 

“ You could not find a better one, Harry. 
All through his fathers long illness, he was 
most patient, and most attentive.” , 

“ That first suggested him to my mind, 
Gerty. I wanted to find some one on whom 
I could rely in other respects beside the 
mere fact of being an experienced nurse, 
and Luke seems to be just the one needed.” 

“ Can you spare him from the office ?” 

“ Not very well, for he is becoming in- 
valuable to me ; but I can surely make some 
little sacrifice.” 

“ Have you seen him ?” hesitatingly whis- 
pered Gertrude, in such a tone that Harry 
guessed at once, without her speaking the 
name, that she did not now refer to Luke. 

“Yes, Gertrude; he has changed greatly.” 

“ Did he recognize you ?” 

“No ; although once or twice I suspected 


“ Why was I Spared .” 395 

that lie caught something familiar in my face. 
He looked intently for a moment, while he 
seemed to be trying to unravel some knot 
of forgotten associations ; but soon, yielding 
to the weakness of the body, he relinquished 
the task, resigning himself to the comfort 
of being cared for by some one, be he 
stranger or friend.” 

“ Harry,” faltered Gertrude, “ will he ?” — 
She could not finish the sentence, but her 
brother knew well her meaning. 

“ God only knows, Gerty, dear and 
Harry’s arm clasped more closely his sister’s 
trembling form. The physician gives little 
hope. This has been coming on for years, 
and his constitution has become so shattered 
by his intemperate habits, that there is 
nothing whereon to build.” 

“ Oh, Harry, if he should die !” and shud- 
dering, Gertrude buried her face in her 
hands. 


396 Amid the Shadows . 

“ We can still pray, Gerty, dear ; though 
in his present feeble condition, I do not 
think it would be advisable to try to say 
anything to him. Indeed he is so entirely 
prostrated, that it would be worse than use- 
less. He does not seem able to concentrate 
his thoughts upon any subject, even for a 
few moments at a time. That is another 
reason for my choosing Luke as his constant 
attendant ; I have great hopes that such an 
earnest Christian as he, may find, at times, 
an opportunity for speaking some word that 
may be blessed.” 

“ Harry,” Gertrude asked, “ do you think 
it safe to trust Luke in a hotel ?” 

“ I have thought of that, too ; but, I have 
watched him very closely lately, and feel 
convinced that he is conscious of his weak- 
ness, and knows where to look for strength. 
I have had several plain talks with him, and 
I think he understands fully the cross he has 


397 


“ Why was I Spared.” 

to bear through life. His taste for liquor is 
just as much an inherited disease, as any 
physical malady that could have been handed 
down to him from his father or mother ; and 
he is conscious that, unless he receives 
strength from above, he is utterly powerless 
to contend against it.” 

“ Well, Harry, I believe with you that he 
is a Christian, but I guess my faith is weak, 
for I dread exposing him to temptation.” 

“ I have talked it all over with him, and 
he too dreads it, but there seems to be noth- 
ing else to do. He proposed moving the 
invalid to their home, where Nellie and 
Jennie might help to care for him ; but my 
mere suggestion of such a thing met with a 
decided negative from the physician, who 
says it would be certain death.” 

“ Well, Harry, then, as you say, there is 
nothing else to be done. There is a great 
difference between going into the way of 


398 Amid the Shadows . 

temptation, while in the path of duty, and 
going into it, merely to try our strength. 
The refusal to do the former, indicates a lack 
of faith ; while a determination to do the 
latter, seems to me nothing more nor less 
than an open defiance of God.” 

“You are right, Gerty, and Luke feels it, 
in the same way. As long as it seemed 
possible to avoid entering the hotel, he hesi- 
tated, as to what he ought to do ; but, as 
soon as he found that it was unquestionably 
his duty to go there, to minister to one 
whom, with God’s blessing, he might lead 
to the cross, all hesitancy ceased, and he 
entered upon his duties this afternoon.” 

“What wonderful ways God has for lead- 
ing some of us into the light, hasn’t He, 
Harry ?” 

“Yes, darling sister, my own experience 
is sufficient proof of that.” 

“ I didn’t refer to that, Harry, dear ; I was 


“ Why was I Spared 399 

thinking of Luke just then. I never read 
the text, “ The goodness of God leadeth 
thee to repentance, without having brought 
to my mind, his wonderful conversion. When 
I saw him, a few days after that terrible fire, 
his whole being was filled with wonder at 
God’s mercy. ‘ Why was I spared ?’ he kept 
repeating, and God’s kindness melted the 
heart that might have resisted severe judg- 
ments.” 

“Yes, Gerty, and then see, again, how 
‘ severe judgments,’ have, at times, been 
blessed to others. Have you visited poor 
Ned Lyons, lately ? I called there a few 
day ago, and it was a real pleasure to see 
how eagerly he listened to the story of Jesus’ 
love, and how he clasped my hand, when I 
spoke of the preciousness of the Saviour, 
though he could not utter a word.” 

“ The cottage they now occupy, is much 
more pleasant than their former home, and 


400 


Amid the Shadows. 


Neds bed was- drawn just before the window, 
where he could see the grass and flowers in 
the yard. By the way, what do you think 
Mrs. Lyons told me ? I have wondered 
how she found time to give so much atten- 
tion to her flowers ; but she says, that it is 
all Luke Ray’s work. After he leaves the 
office, he devotes his time to fixing up the 
two adjoining yards ; and, having removed 
the fence that separated them, he has now 
succeeded in making his own, with Mrs. 
Lyons’, look like one large flower garden, 
while he always contrives to have the bright- 
est blossoms just where Ned can see them, 
as he lies at the window. Ned will miss 
Luke sadly, Harry.” 

“ Yes, Gerty,” gently answered her brother, 
“ but I do not think it will be for long.” 

The tears, controlled thus far, could be 
kept back no longer ; and, leaning upon her 
brother’s bosom, Gertrude wept unrestrain- 


Why was I Spared ? 401 


edly. Harry, knowing that, in this way, her 
overburdened heart would find speediest re- 
lief, checked her not, only speaking his 
sympathy in soft caresses, and murmured 
words of endearment. 

Like a little child’s, her violent weeping 
soon spent itself, while occasional sobs, 
vibrating through her whole being, told how 
heart-deep had been the grief that brought 
such a torrent of tears from the eyes of one 
used to weeping more o’er the sorrows of 
others, than her own. 



XX. 


REAPING THE HARVEST. 



“ Gathered in time, or eternity, 

Sure, ah sure will the harvest be.” 

JUKE’S faithfulness as a nurse to 
the sick man, proved that Harry’s 
choice had been well made. 

Attentive to every duty, even the slight- 
est, the chief desire of his heart was to find 
an opportunity for speaking in the ear of 
him who was, evidently, so rapidly nearing 
eternity, some word for his Master. 

He thought of the weeks and months dur- 
ing which he had watched by his father’s 
sick-bed. How different it was then ! Even 


Reaping the Harvest. 403 

the name of Jesus soothed his father’s suffer- 
ing, and, at the last, heaven seemed to come 
down to earth, and his children, watching be- 
side him, caught as it were a glimpse of its 
glory, reflected in the loved face ; but now, 
the least allusion to religious subjects was 
received with evident disfavor. 

A few words from the Bible, had, at all 
times been precious and comforting to his 
father ; but now, when, during a spell of rest- 
lessness, he had offered to read a few verses, 
the very suggestion had so increased his 
patient’s nervous irritability, that he feared 
to repeat the offer, and had to content him- 
self with silently praying that the Holy Spirit 
would do His work without human instru- 
mentality. 

So weeks passed, and still George Derby 
lingered on the brink of the grave. 

Harry Arnold visited him frequently ; yet, 
although again and again, the puzzled look 


404 


Amid the Shadows. 


of inquiry that he had noticed at first, flashed 
across the invalid’s face, increasing weak- 
ness rendered him every day less able to 
follow up the instantaneous thought ; so he 
was content to lie still, and receive, from his 
stranger friends, the kindness that might 
have been given to a brother. 

One evening, calling to inquire for him 
in whom, since he had learned his sister’s 
secret, he took the deepest interest, Harry 
was met in the hall by Luke, who motioned 
to follow him into a private room. 

Harry was puzzled. “ What is it, Luke ? 
Is Mr. Derby worse ?” 

“ I think he is, sir ; but I did not want to 
speak of that. About half an hour ago, I 
was sitting reading, thinking him asleep. 
He called me so suddenly that I was startled. 
‘ Luke,’ he said, 4 1 want pencil and paper.’ 
I got it for him, and, with much difficulty, 
he wrote a few lines. Then, after resting 


Reaping the Harvest. 405 

some moments, he wrote, on the envelope 
that I handed him, Miss Gertrudes name, 
and bade me take it at once. He has just 
finished it, and I was so glad to meet you ; 
for, although he insisted upon my leaving 
him, he is too ill to be alone.” 

“ I will deliver it now, Luke. Tell him 
that you sent it by a messenger, as you 
feared he might need you ; but do not, on 
any account, mention my name.” 

The invalid was only half satisfied upon 
finding that Luke had sent his note by 
another, but said little, for his strength was 
fast leaving him, and he seemed to be hoard- 
ing up what he had, for some last emergency. 

He lay quietly, his eyes fixed upon the 
door, with a look of anxious expectancy. 

To Luke, there was about his face an 
expression unseen there before — a shadow 
cast by an unseen hand that was pausing, 
but for a moment, before pressing with icy 


406 Amid the Shadows. 

fingers, the lips that at times moved as if 
repeating some name recalled from the long 
ago. 

Anxiously both listened, and, as footsteps 
approached, Luke’s countenance expressed 
unutterable relief, while that of the sick man 
showed agitation, only suppressed by bodily 
weakness. 

The footsteps paused. The door stood 
ajar, and through the opening, Gertrude had 
a full view of the face, that, for years, had 
been before her nightly as she knelt in 
prayer. 

But, how changed it was ! Surely that 
face upon which was indelibly imprinted the 
record of a misspent life — a record which 
even the softening touch of death could not 
entirely efface — surely that was not the face 
that had come so often before her, in mo- 
ments when the tempter had whispered that 
she had made an uncalled-for sacrifice. 


Reaping the Harvest . 407 

All through these years, the image treas- 
ured in the secret recesses of her heart, had, 
from contact with its resting-place, been 
going through a purifying and refining pro- 
cess, until the ideal had assumed a form of 
manly beauty, but slightly marred by the 
nature that she knew too well the object of 
her affection had borne. 

But now, in the few moments during 
which she paused at the door, a realization 
of the truth flashed across her mind. The 
ideal she had treasured faded away before 
the reality. 

Could it be that this man had once been 
dear to her? — yes, not only “had been,” in 
the long ago, but even up to this very mo- 
ment ? — could it be that to the keeping of 
this man, she would have entrusted her life's 
happiness, had not a strength mightier than 
her own held her back ? 

It was to her as to a man, who, by the 


408 Amid the Shadows. 

light of day, looks down into some yawning 
chasm, from the brink of which he has been 
snatched, when in the darkness his unwary 
feet have been just stepping into the awful 
abyss. He shudders at the dread reality, 
and grasps more tightly the hand that saved 
him. 

A prayer of devout thanksgiving arose 
from Gertrude’s heart, as, with a hand from 
which all tremor had passed, she pressed 
Harry’s arm as a signal that she was prepared 
to enter the room. 

The face of the dying man flushed per- 
ceptibly as the door opened, and, glancing at 
the two, the truth flashed across his mind, 
which had haunted him as a phantom when- 
ever Harry had visited him. 

With true delicacy Luke withdrew, leaving 
the brother and sister alone with him, who, 
to one, might have been nearer and dearer 
than all the world beside. 


Reaping the Harvest. 


409 


With evident effort George Derby raised 
his hand and held it toward Gertrude. She 
took it so calmly that Harry looked at her in 
amazement. 

For a moment no one spoke, then the 
dying man broke the silence. In a voice so 
weak as to be scarcely audible, and pausing 
again and again to catch his shortening 
breath, he whispered : 

“ I am dying. I want to say one thing 
before I go to my account. I cannot undo 
all the wrongs I have done to hundreds ; 
but, Gertrude, I want to acknowledge that 
you were right. I respected you all the 
time. I would have been what I now am 
had you married me, and you would have 
been the wife of a gambler.” 

He sank back exhausted, and they thought 
he would never speak again ; but in a mo- 
ment he revived, and continued : 


4io 


Amid the Shadows . 


“ Can you forgive me, Gertrude ? And 
you, Harry, can you forgive me ?” 

“ As God has forgiven me,” replied Harry, 
while Gertrude knelt beside the bed, and 
whispered the forgiveness she could not find 
voice to utter aloud. 

Then, falling on his knees beside his sister, 
Harry prayed that God would forgive his 
wandering one, and receive, for Jesus’ sake, 
him who had so long rejected His offers of 
mercy. 

As the prayer closed, Gertrude thought 
she caught the sound of a whispered 
“ Amen,” but that was all. 

The excitement had been too great ; and 
raising his eyes, Harry saw from the pale 
lips, the life-blood slowly trickling. 

Hastily summoning Luke, he led his 
sister from the room, and, leaving her in an 
adjoining apartment, returned to the death- 
chamber. 


Reaping the Harvest . 41 1 

He reached it just in time to see the last 
breath drawn, and he whose life had been 
spent so vainly, was in the presence of Him 
who gave it. 

He hastened to call other assistance for 
Luke, and, giving directions that, at his ex- 
pense, all should be done for the dead that 
could be done, he returned to Gertrude. 

She read the truth in his face, and needed 
not to ask, if all were over. 

Of the future of him who was gone, neither 
whispered. Gertrude knew that her prayers 
for him, during his wayward life, had been 
earnest ; and, with firm faith in God, she 
could rest on His precious promises, believ- 
ing that, in the light of eternity, all would be 
made plain. 

With a steady step she entered the car- 
riage waiting for them ; but, reaching her 
own chamber, she closed the door, and spent 


412 


A mid the Shadows. 


hours, of which none but God could ever 
know. 

When again she joined her brother and 
sister, in the sitting-room, Mabel knew not 
the cause of her increased tenderness ; while 
Harry could but half guess that one dark 
shadow, for years resting on her heart, had 
faded away beneath the glorious beams of 
the Sun of Righteousness. 































































- 




















































































































. 


















* 































* 


* 




I 






















‘ 











































































^ . 






























m 


























; A | Spy ! 



























» 




























I 




HD 39 ■ 




